


Senza Parole

by CMBYN (Pmzilla)



Series: Parallel Lives - Later, Peaches [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Call me by your name, Charmie, Fluff and Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, RPF, Rimming, Sensual Italian Summer, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 78,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pmzilla/pseuds/CMBYN
Summary: Senza Parole - Without words - two men embark on a sensual Italian summer romance - discovering themselves and each other.IT IS FINISHED!!! - 28 April 2018Senza Parole continues the story of Armie and Timmy - falling in love through their filming in Crema - and failing to consider whether their relationship could exist outside of this insular world, until circumstances conspire to force the question.





	1. Senza Parole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....there are a few moments - a particularly romantic song lyric playing, discussing whether passion is differently expressed in same-sex relationships with Peter - where Armie catches himself staring. A few times, Tim looks back and smiles - Armie’s resulting blushes are going to give everything away. Pining schoolboy! he harshly reminds himself. No matter where Timmy is in the room, Armie seems to gravitate towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard Disclaimer: I'm not saying anything went down....but if it did, here's one possibility as to how it went down.

“Ah - you're both here. Good - now we can begin”, Luca takes Tim aside for a moment, “Timothèe - did you miss your Italian lesson with X---? He called me.”

“Luca - I'm so sorry. I texted X—- before we head over. Armie and I went...biking and I didn't bring my phone. I thought it was tomorrow. We lost track of time”, Tim’s face is a picture of innocence, but Luca has a director’s eye for detail - and he notices the quicksilver in Armie’s glance when Timmy says ‘biking’.

“Biking? Is that what you crazy kids are calling it these days?”, Armie says sotto voce.

“I was on the spot to explain missing my lesson and my ‘saddle burn’ - so unless you have a better word for it?”

“Hmm, several - but it will keep for later.”

“‘Later’”, Timmy catches himself before leaning back into Armie’s body.

 

Everyone settles in and the table read goes smoothly. Luca stops and starts scenes to set the stage and discuss ideas about blocking. Even with Timmy giving a half performance and Armie still struggling to find Oliver’s voice - the chemistry between the leads is palpable - like another presence in the crowded room. Surprisingly - the second half, once the men have acknowledged their love - is an improvement over the first.

 

Dinner follows the reading - with the entire cast and much of the crew gathering around the long table, shifting between conversations and courses. Wine flows freely. There are moments - a particularly romantic song lyric playing, discussing whether passion is differently expressed in same-sex relationships with Peter - where Armie catches himself staring. Occasionally, Tim looks back and smiles - Armie’s resulting blushes are going to give everything away. _Pining schoolboy!_ he harshly reminds himself. No matter where Timmy is in the room, Armie seems to gravitate towards him. Armie is disarmed by the sight of a tipsy Timmy, giggling with Esther Garrell in French, after he dismisses the initial small flare of jealousy in his chest. It was one night - he has no right to feel...proprietary with Timothèe. It doesn’t stop him, but he acknowledges he has no right. He eases off the drinking and starts to think about heading home, hopefully together.

Tim curls up on the couch next to Esther with a glass of wine. The first table read went pretty well - He is starting to get the feeling of Armie’s Oliver, and his rapport with Marzia (Esther) is natural. Even at LaGuardia it was like this - so easy to work with the girls. They weren’t ever afraid of him - and, for most of high school, they weren’t intimidated by him either. He was the best friend, not the boy that everyone had a crush on. Not until Lourdes, at least - and Tim is not entirely sure how he pulled that one off either. So the pattern continues with Esther, with whom he is chatting in French - and who is friendly and kind - but completely unfazed by Timothèe.

The evening wears on; Tim catches himself staring at Armie or turning his head when he hears that booming laugh coming from a new quarter. As the Brits say - _it’s not on_ \- giving the cast and crew major gossip fodder this early on in a production. He sharpens his attention on Esther, and with the help of a few glasses of wine, he softly flirts with her. Within the half-hour, Esther is sliding closer to Tim on the sofa and staring at his lips when they chit-chat. Twice she’s stammered in her native French when answering Tim’s questions about her director father. Timothèe smiles up at her from under his thick lashes, when he feels a hand close on the back of his neck. He turns his smoulder upwards, elongating his neck, towards his co-star, “Hey - _c’è il_ muvi _star_ ”.

Armie loses a few seconds taking in the blatant flirtation with his young lover, “Er - I was...yeah. I’m heading back - you wanna come with? Not that...I mean - I don’t want to interrupt you if you aren’t ready to go. It’s just - I am.”

“No - makes sense - let me say goodbye to Luca and I’ll meet you out front?”, Tim turns to say goodnight to Esther with a kiss on both cheeks.

In front of the villa, Armie waits, pacing. He stops when Timmy ambles out to him.

“Are we taking a car or walking?”

“Car will pull around in a minute”

Timmy pulls Armie gently, “Then let’s go?”

The ride back to Crema is quiet. Timmy slips his hand into Armie's; he tugs their linked hands into his lap.

“Are you interested in her?”

“In who?”, Tim is perplexed by this turn in their evening.

“In Esther...look, I know I have absolutely no right to ask you this, but - the way you looked at her...she would be so much better for you …”

“Hold up - do _you_ not want to….um...see me anymore?”, Tim’s voice is small, but it echoes with hurt.

“Of course not, but…”

“But nothing. OK, yes - I flirted to pass the time while you were busy charming every other person in the room other than me.”, he lashes out. Now it is Armie’s turn to look wounded; Timmy capitulates immediately.

“No. No-you were right to do it; I should have circulated too. Armie - I’m not...good at this part. Someone calls ‘action’ and I can act, but I’m not...I’m not a movie star. I don’t know if I can ever be that”.

“You’re so young - these things get easier. I can help, if you like?”

Timmy smiles with the face of a fallen angel, “I like everything you do”.

 _Damn the driver -_ Armie cannot wait until they are behind closed doors. He pulls Timmy into his lap and kisses him breathlessly.

* * *

 

Timothèe wakes in a sweat. The sheets and blankets are kicked away, but he is wrapped in the arms of his 6’5” costar who radiates heat like a furnace. He tries to shift - to read the time on his phone, but that only prompts Armie to drag Tim back even closer.

“Armie - we have a photo call and some lighting tests today. Time to wake up”.

There is a grumble in response. Armie stretches, cat-like then burrows deeper between Timmy’s shoulders. Timmy can feel the morning erection dragging up in the gap between his thighs. Armie’s hand traces down over Tim’s chest.

“You know that - of the many, varied things I will do to you and for you - being late for a call is not one of them?”, Timmy is rapidly losing the will to fight Armie.

“Again. You won’t be late _again_ after we held up the first table read so you could give me a heart-stoppingly amazing blowjob”, Armie counters.

“Still…”, Timmy is struggling to stay the course as Armie’s fingers slide behind his balls and trail further back.

“You are right. Shower with me?”

“And you still think we would be on time?”

“Yes, because I have a bet with myself on how fast I can bring you off with just my mouth, kneeling on the floor of that massive shower.”

“Ambitious for your first time, aren't you? And if that's your goal - isn’t this cheating?”

“Talking dirty is still using my mouth,” Armie’s lips curl around Timmy’s earlobe, “meet you there in five”. He smacks Tim’s ass with a resounding swat as Tim rolls from the bed. He can hear the water switch on, when he enters - 5 minutes later - Tim is soaping his still-erect length. He looks like renaissance pornography against the sandstone.

Armie kisses him roughly, pressing Tim back against the wall. Armie slides over Timmy’s body and swallows him down. One leg rests on Armie’s shoulder and Tim is braced against two corners of the shower stall so he doesn’t topple over. Armie is giving no quarter. Timmy is his first blowjob, but he has been on the receiving end enough to vary this technique. Pressure, suction, then just a hint of teeth and Timmy is shaking so hard that Armie needs his hands to steady him.

“Oh! I’m...I’m going to…”

Armie makes no response other than to take Timmy deeper, hollowing his cheeks and Timmy comes down his throat. In the wake of his orgasm, Tim slides to join Armie on the floor.

"Jesus. You are amazing, just unbelievable". Timmy babbles.

"Eh - Beginner's luck?", Armie strokes Timmy's cheekbones.

"Hmmmm. We will have to experiment further to confirm. Meanwhile - can I help you with that?"

"Well - if you insist..."

"Mmm hmmm..."


	2. Ogni Cosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The second he saw Timmy, he was like, ‘Hey, show me the place!’ And they went biking immediately, and they never stopped biking until we wrapped.” - (the real) Luca G.

“ _Zio Luca, dobbiamo andare se vogliamo tornare prima della cena_ ”, Adriana scolds, "You said you wanted to be back before dinner - _andiamo_!"

“S _ arò da te presto... _ .Adri - I have a question….Gianni drove Armie and Timmy home last night?”

“Yes”, Luca’s niece is suddenly confined to monosyllables and isn’t meeting his eyes. 

“Ah! What do you know?”, Luca cocks his eyebrow at Adri, “Something happened!”

“You always make the worst of things….”

“ _ Allora _ ! One is precocious but  _innocente_ \- the other   _ -se tradisce la moglie _ \- a woman who verbally eviscerated some girl who dared to dance with her husband”. 

“Who knows what lurks within the hearts of men?”, Adri declares mysteriously, but she soon breaks under Luca’s pointed stare, “It could be nothing! A drunken experiment…”

“ _Dai!_   They ' _went_ _biking'…”_ , Luca spits the phrase out with equal parts aggravation and sarcasm. 

“Biking? You’ve lost me…”.

“Better yet - let’s lose this entire conversation - I will forget that it happened - so will you and Gianni.  _ Magari _ \- let’s hope - no one else noticed”.

* * *

“Don’t come!”, Timmy rests his cheek against Armie’s muscular thigh.

“Ohhhhhh - are you trying to kill me”, Armie is shaking so hard he almost dislodges Tim. 

“No, I’m trying to top without hurting you. Do you still want to try? Because I’m good with bottoming…just - not every night”, Timmy draws his hand along Armie’s length.

“No. I want to...I want  _ you  _ to….I think - I think I’m ready”, Armie settles back into the pillows and tries, but fails, to keep the anxiety off his face. 

Timothèe kisses his neck, “Don’t worry if it takes a while to work out. No rush. Now, another?”

“You have very long fingers…”.

“Like yours aren’t? I won’t lie. I am going to be horribly jealous if you become a strictly bottom pillow queen...after all the work I put in to handle that thing.”

“ _ That thing?  _ That is a fantastically un-romantic way to talk about my cock”.

“...and yet, I have such ridiculously romantic feelings towards it; I’d miss it”, Timmy slips another finger in as he kisses Armie’s cockhead. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about - if nothing else, I come far too quickly like this.”

“What makes it amazing is prostate stimulation. I can’t even tell if I’m doing it right…”. 

“You are doing it right. My God - you are definitely doing everything so very right”.

“You ready?”

“OK. Let’s go.”

“Pillow under here, on your back for me. Good”, Tim rolls on a condom and reaches for the lube, “No such thing as too much lube...are you sure you are..?”

“Timmy”, Armie reaches up, running his thumb over Timothèe’s cheekbone - down to his lips, “I want this. With you.”

Timmy says nothing, but smiles and lays Armie back on the bed. They kiss.

“Now - are you going to fuck me or lecture on physics? Come on!”, Armie grins. Timmy aligns himself and pushes in. Armie seizes up. 

“It’s OK, It’s OK - just relax”, Timothèe whispers into Armie’s shoulder, “Kiss me”, he demands. Armie holds out his arms and gathers Timmy in. They kiss deliriously. Tim breaches Armie while he runs his tongue inside his bottom lip.  After the initial push, Armie’s body dilates around him.

“ _ Mon ange.. _ talk to me”, Tim stills as he bottoms out. He whispers, “You feel so amazing.  _ Je veux te baiser _ ”.

“Oh, please, please,  _ please  _ move? Jesus. Ah!”

Timothèe starts a slow rhythm, varying the angle until Armie growls with every stroke. Timmy thrusts harder and faster; Armie moves in a counterpoint to Tim, his strong, wiry arms pressed against the headboard. Timothèe continues to whisper obscenities in French. In a few more thrusts, Armie is crying out. A few after that, and Timmy collapses on top of him, utterly spent.

“That was amazing. I didn’t even touch you…”

“French is my kryptonite. Plus, I think you worked out the prostate stimulation problem.”   
“Really?”

“Oh yeah”.

Timothee wipes them both with a discarded t-shirt, then looks at Armie with a thoughtful expression, “Do you think it’s just French that does it?”.

“I dunno - give me an hour or so and we can try Italian”, Armie pulls Timmy back onto his chest.

“ _ Voglio ogni cosa con te..”,  _ Tim’s lips press against Armie’s neck.

“Oh yeah - Italian is looking pretty good, too”. 


	3. Tutto Sommato - All Things Considered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After a moment's respite, Armie pulls something into their bed._  
>  “Yeah?”, Armie lifts the cords as Timmy lies back and tries to catch his breath.  
> “Let me see?”, Tim runs the smooth length of cord through his hands. He wraps his fist and then loops it around Armie, pulling their bodies tightly together. He rubs it with his face - the rope feels smooth and almost slippery. He catches it between his teeth and sees Armie’s eyes blown wide with desire, “What am I agreeing to?”, he asks playfully.  
> “Nothing too extreme - just restraint, for now - I won’t hurt you”, Armie strokes down Timmy’s body as though to gentle him.  
> “Why do you like it?”  
> Armie lays Timothèe out on the bed, then stretches beside him. He continues tracing the lines of his young lover’s body as though he were sculpting him while he answers, “The knots are beautiful. Of course - and the contrast of the rope against your skin”.  
> “And that’s all?”  
> Armie smiles ruefully, looking up at Timmy from underneath his brilliant blonde lashes, “Not all. It’s the trust implied in it, too. You are willing to give over control into my hands - even just for an hour, you are entirely mine ”.

Luca works with the same crew on his movies. Once filming begins, coming to set feels a bit like attending a well-organized family reunion of sorts. In many ways, it makes filming easier - people can easily anticipate each other. But keeping secrets on set is approximately impossible. Like long-time lovers- everyone knows what someone is trying to hide from the way they try to hide it.

Keeping secrets from Luca is doubly impossible - he knows his crew - _la famiglia -_ intimately, and he is a consummate observer. For this reason, Fernanda, his makeup-artist-in-chief, is unsurprised to find _il direttore_ in her trailer after her painstaking work on Timmy’s neck smudges in the day’s rushes.

“You know, Fernanda, for two young, beautiful men - they take quite some time in makeup. Are they living too hard? What is taking so very long to cover up?”

“Actors are particular. I don’t think they’ve been drinking or partying too much”, Fernanda does not pause as she scrupulously cleans her brushes.

“I’ve noticed the marks in the rushes - whatever you are using on Timmy rubs off too quickly.”

“ _Ai_. They are so clumsy…”, Fernanda blushes underneath her perfect makeup.

“ _Certo_. Very clumsy with their necks.”

“Luca - I promised not to say….”.

“ _Si_ , _cara_ \- and you kept your promise. But they are hardly subtle”.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do? They are grown men. I only…”, Luca makes a vague hand gesture. Fernanda nods.

“You don’t want people outside our crew - _la famiglia -_ to know”.

“Timothèe’s performance is…”, he sighs, “...it would be extraordinary from a man twice his age. And Armie? It’s what I always knew was possible - but _only I_ could coax it from him. _Adesso_ …”, Luca trails off.

“You think if the press gets wind of their affaire, it will negate all of that?”

“I think it’s the difference between an Oscar-worthy performance and a TMZ-worthy scandal. And what they accomplished in the film will not matter in light of the shock value of who they are. _Tutto sommato_ \- all things considered….”, Luca shakes his head.

“Talk to them, _direttore_ , Elio might worship Oliver - but those boys are both acolytes at the altar of only one: Luca Guadagnino. _Capisce_?”

“It really can’t be avoided. Am I a hypocrite? Can I fault him for wanting Armie? I want him! Everyone wants him”.

“You aren’t telling him not to want him - you are telling them both that - if the film is going be a critical success - their relationship can’t be front page news”.

“ _Certo”,_ Luca stares off into space.

Fernanda places a gentle hand on Luca’s shoulder, and he comes back to her with a smile and kisses it. _La Famiglia_ always seem to anticipate each other; perhaps they can make this work, too.

* * *

Timothèe stretches out next to a napping Armie. The first days of shooting flew by - they are having a rare enough off day, and Armie suggested that an appropriate use of their time might involve a marathon of sexual acts, interspersed with takeaway from S———- and intertwined napping. Timmy agreed to the plan wholeheartedly.

All things considered, principal photography is going very well. The crew is small and intimate. No one seems fussed by the mounting evidence that their leading men are carrying on offscreen as well as on. Tim is glad - his summer romance will be immortalized, but like Elio - Timothèe is not yet numbering the days because he knows that they will end.

Instead, he watches the sunlight dappled across Armie’s broad back as he remembers their afternoon. Timmy stretches his arms up and rolls his shoulders. The black silken cord spills haphazardly across the bottom of the bed. Armie only brought out the coil of rope after first holding Tim down with his hands for an enthusiastic but messy blowjob. He slid down over Timmy’s chest and traced lower still. One arm pinned his hips, the other hand worked him open, and Armie’s lips trailed lewdly over his erection; Timothèe came, tinged with delirium.  

 

> _After a moment's respite, Armie pulls something into their bed._
> 
> _“Yeah?”, Armie lifts the cords as Timmy lies back and tries to catch his breath._
> 
> _“Let me see?”, Tim runs the smooth length of cord through his hands. He wraps his fist and then loops it around Armie, pulling their bodies tightly together. He rubs it with his face - the rope feels smooth and almost slippery. He catches it between his teeth and sees Armie’s eyes blown wide with desire, “What am I agreeing to?”, he asks playfully._
> 
> _“Nothing too extreme - just restraint, for now - I won’t hurt you”, Armie strokes down Timmy’s body as though to gentle him._
> 
> _“Why do you like it?”_
> 
> _Armie lays Timothèe out on the bed, then stretches beside him. He continues tracing the lines of his young lover’s body as though he were sculpting him while he answers, “The knots are beautiful. Of course - and the contrast of the rope against your skin”._
> 
> _“And that’s all?”_
> 
> _Armie smiles ruefully, looking up at Timmy from underneath his brilliant blonde lashes, “Not all. It’s the trust implied in it, too. You are willing to give over control into my hands - even just for an hour, you are entirely **mine** ”. _
> 
> _Timothèe s cock twitches._
> 
> _“Seems like at least part of you is very much on board”, Armie skims over Timmy’s half-hard cock and watches it lengthen._
> 
> _Timmy smiles angelically, then kneels up - holding the coils of rope in his arms like an offering, “OK, show me?”._
> 
> _Armie’s breath hitches, then he nods._
> 
> _The knots form two sleeves, pinning Timmy’s arms behind him, but not too tightly._
> 
> _“It’s called a dragonfly sleeve”, says Armie as he binds off the final knot, “my god, you look…”._
> 
> _Timothèe tries to glance behind, his curls fall over his face. Armie guides him down, until Timmy’s forehead touches the mattress. He slides his hands over Tim’s ass._

Armie admired his workmanship - and maybe took some pictures, Tim couldn’t tell. He remembers the shock of feeling of Armie’s tongue opening him further and his nearly incoherent begging until Armie finally, _finally_ slid inside. He had never came like that before,...neither - he thought - had Armie.

When it was over, Armie released him and massaged the impressions of the rope from his wrists and arms. Timothèe fell asleep almost immediately, inelegantly sprawled over Armie’s chest.

Now, watching his sleeping lover, Timmy considers that there was a time when other men were attached to this project as Oliver - and cannot imagine it now. Even reading for this part with someone else feels like infidelity of the first order. On the nightstand, one of their mobile phones lights up - Tim grabs it. It’s Armie’s mobile, with a text message from Elizabeth on the lock screen, “Someone can’t wait to see her daddy! ILY2 - boarding in 5”.

 _Elizabeth._ Elizabeth is coming to Crema.


	4. Nel Frattempo (In the Meantimes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth’s arrival makes many things clear to me - not the least of which is: I am hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her husband. I watch from my window, feigning dispassion, as the man who wouldn’t leave my bed this morning sweeps his elegant, glowing wife into his arms. I watch his beautiful little girl toddle to her daddy. I watch as - just for a moment - Armie glances up to my windows as he gathers luggage in one hand and scoops up Harper in the other. I let the drape fall closed before I truly must see the careful bubble we had built around our lives in Crema torn wide. I can hear them in hallway as they pass by my door. Once they have passed, I head out - just in time to watch Armie’s apartment door swing closed behind him and his family, shutting me out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta, without whom this chapter would have been written off as a bad deal. xoxo

Armie wakes alone in Timothèe’s bed. The rope is coiled neatly on the dresser, the space in the sheets next to him is cold. He feels something hard beneath his shoulder so he sits up. His mobile phone...it’s 3 AM, then Armie sees Elizabeth’s text. He falls back against the headboard - has it really been almost 5 weeks? He scrubs his face with his hands, then pulls on his boxer briefs and goes in search of Timmy.

 

* * *

###  **Timothèe**

Elizabeth’s arrival makes many things clear to me - not the least of which is: I am hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her husband. I watch from my window, feigning dispassion, as the man who wouldn’t leave my bed this morning sweeps his elegant, glowing wife into his arms. I watch his beautiful little girl toddle to her daddy. I watch as - just for a moment - Armie glances up to my windows as he gathers luggage in one hand and scoops up Harper in the other. I let the drape fall closed before I truly must see the careful bubble we had built around our lives in Crema torn wide. I can hear them in the hallway as they pass by my door. Once they have passed, I head out - just in time to watch Armie’s apartment door swing closed behind him and his family, shutting me out.

I am no further than our usual breakfast spot when my mobile chimes. Armie. “Dinner tonight with the Hammily- Speranza, 8 pm. Elizabeth can’t wait to meet you. A”

I respond with a vague stream of emojis, then - just for spite - add the peach. I scroll back through previous messages: 4 invitations to various meals, one actual bike trip plan, the phone number of the restaurant in Moscazzano….and 15 other notes ranging from “only been an hour but I _have_ to fuck u again” to pictures of me kneeling, restrained and debauched by him.

I want to believe that I will ignore his invitation - but my inability to ignore Armie is what brought us here in the first place. I slam my handlebars and head north towards the main piazza.

* * *

**A Visit from Luca**

I close my eyes and gather my thoughts for a moment in front of the building where Armie and Timmy have flats. Today was a free day, neither cast nor crew has seen any sign of them - they must be together. Better to do it this way, catch them directly in the act to prevent prevarication. Just have it out - then they can do as they please - only I hope they please to keep it under wraps if they continue. Their work is too good to be discounted. I will make them see reason.

Timmy’s apartment is dark and quiet; so I move down the hall to Armie’s door. I brace myself to knock, but the door is off the latch and it swings open at my touch. I step into the small flat, "Armie?”, I call tentatively.  The lounge is dark for midday. From behind the bedroom door, I hear a low moan that can only belong to my leading man #2.

Suddenly - it is all too much.

_Che cazzo!_ For all they know, I could be a paparazzo from one of those hideous American gossip rags and here these boys leave the front door ajar while they spend every moment they aren’t on set fucking. I ride this wave of aggravation right through the bedroom door, “Armie! Timothèe! I know you are there - you left the door wide open and this, **_this_ ** is exactly what I’m here to discuss”.

Armie in the throes of desire is stunning; he is presently splayed wide on the bed - on the receiving end of some act of sexual congress that leaves only a dark tuft of Timmy’s hair visible above the sheets. I keep my face impassive and cross my arms, “Timothèe - come - we talk now”.

Armie finally processes what is happening and tries to wave me off. Before he can, the sheet is ripped back from the bed with a flourish - like a magician performing a conjuring trick - revealing the naked form of Elizabeth, Armie’s wife.

“Really, Luca - as if the high heels weren’t a dead giveaway”, she rolls off Armie theatrically, leaving him entirely exposed and giving me more than an eyeful of her, too.

I am certain my face is a mask of horror, even before I realize what I just said and to whom I said it. I turn on my heel to flee and crash into the door jamb.

* * *

**Timothèe**

I’ve been biking aimlessly for 3 hours when I finally accept that there is no amount of introspection or exertion that is going to improve the situation or reveal a new possibility. Once again - I feel foolish. _Childish._ We were operating in the meantime - while I was living in the moment, only. That moment was enough when he was under me, over me - or even while acting out a dramatization of our sensual Italian summer. But reality was always waiting in the wings - and now it crept in with cold feet.

I live too much in my head. How happy I was that I could just be present with him! I moved, I touched, I reacted - it was blissful - nothing to overanalyze, just accepting life as it comes.

Well, this is where that line of thinking leaves me: I didn’t pay the slightest attention to my heart, until now - when I find that I’ve lost it to a man with a wife and child.

Meanwhile, Armie will enjoy his family’s visit and already expects that everything will go back to the way it was when they depart.

The morning that message arrived - I left my bed - _our bed -_ and retreated to the lounge. Armie came looking for me around 3 AM and found me sitting, woebegone and tear-streaked, on my sofa wearing only a sheet wrapped around my waist.

 

“I take it you saw the message on my phone?”

“I did”, no sense in pretending this wasn’t happening. It was.

“You know she’s OK with…”

“I know she’s your wife - and she is coming here - and all those things I am to you when she is not around will go away - have to go away”.

“This is not meant to change anything!”

“How can you even say that? Are you planning on doing Shibari on me while you change your kid’s diaper? Come on.”

“That isn’t fair”.

“Neither is this. I knew this was how this would end - and I spent precisely no time even thinking about it. How could I - when you were here: kissing me, touching me...God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“This is _not_ the END of anything”, Armie thunders, “this is a visit - a few days!”.

“And in another month? In a year or so, when promo is done and you have moved on to other projects and so have I? What happens then? Facebook friends? I keep up with pictures of your kids and your dog on Insta - you sometimes notice I’m in a new show on Twitter?  
You know how this works better than me - you’ve been doing it longer.  It’s like summer camp - you promise to write and you never do”, by the time I finish, I am crying in earnest. I can’t help it. I’m overwhelmed by my own willful blindness - because that was the only way I could have this, and I was too weak not to want it.

Armie wrapped his arms around me. He mumbled comforting nonsense into my hair.

...Kissed my tears away.

And I let him.

Only now, Armie thinks everything is fine...but it isn’t. And it isn’t Armie who is biking through Crema’s cobblestoned streets, trying to reason with emotions that he should have guarded. Dammit.

* * *

**Luca**

Next thing I know, I am sitting on the couch in the lounge. I do not remember the journey from the bedroom, but I am _fairly_ certain I didn’t faint like a Regency heroine. _Shock does this,_ my mind helpfully supplies.

“There you are”, says Elizabeth, who is now wrapped in a discreet white robe.

Armie returns from the kitchenette with some ice wrapped in the kitchen towel, “Luca, you gave us a bit of a scare…”

“Yes, me too - Elizabeth...Elizabeth I must apologize. It appears I had a...wrong idea in my head…”.

“What you had in your head...well, you might call it many things, but not one of those things is ‘wrong’. Your timing, on the other hand - leaves almost everything to be desired”, Elizabeth smiles wickedly.

My confusion must be plain to see, “But I…”.

“I could be wrong, but I think you were interrupting Armie and Timmy _at_ _that time specifically_ to make a point?”, Elizabeth asks sharply.

“Yes I… I was…”, I realize that - while my timing was far from flawless - the point I wanted to make was also what Elizabeth wanted to illustrate for her husband. She interrupts my musings with a trenchant, “And - please let me be clear - _I know_ . I know about Armie and Timmy. He asked before they...he asked _before_ . I said ‘yes’. _I approved_ ”.

I consider this for a moment, while Elizabeth’s hands tap with impatience on the arm of her chair.

* * *

**Armie**

After a moment, Luca continues - addressing himself to only me -  “The work you have done so far in this film - for me, it exceeds every single thing you have done in your career before this. You were a good actor - this role? This role has made you great”.

I collapse on to the sofa next to Luca and try to formulate a response, but Luca’s finger presses against my lips, “I’m not finished”.

He gathers my hands in his own, “Timothèe - he is a revelation. These performances - they will redefine who both of you are as actors - they will change your opportunities, they will change your careers…if they are seen as the amazing transformation that they _genuinely are_ ”.

* * *

###  **Timothèe**

Without realizing it, I find myself approaching the flat. Dinner might be easier to bear if I inoculate myself against seeing him _en famille_ first. I resolve to stop by Armie’s apartment - if seeing them together is too painful, I can beg off claiming illness or exhaustion. As I park my bike, I look down and realize that - under yesterday’s circumstances - seeing me this sweaty and messy would have guaranteed at least half an hour stretched over the back of his couch or even just up against the counter of the kitchenette. I feel dirty and not a bit presentable to glamorous Elizabeth. _Fuck it._ I grab a water bottle and gulp too quickly, allowing the cold liquid to splash down my throat - inside and out. Then I wipe the sweat away with the collar of my T-shirt, run wet fingers through my tangled curls and take the stairs two at a time, just to get this nightmare over with.

* * *

###  **Armie**

I idolize Luca - it is no exaggeration to say that I would have taken any role he offered me - to receive such unmitigated praise from him would normally silence me - but now I’m furious. I stand and pace in an effort to contain myself, “Whatever happened to _delve deeply into those places that scare you?_ Was that just an acting workshop? You want me to bring Oliver to life by letting myself live more authentically, but not when being myself means loving him? I can’t believe that you - of all people - are telling me to - what? Stay away from Timmy? Or stay in the closet?”

“Armie - if your relationship with Timothèe becomes news - then your performances won’t be seen as performances. I don’t see you, or Timmy, when I look at the rushes - _but I know you_. The average reader of TMZ does not”.

“So - hide?”, I ask with venom.

Luca runs his hands through his hair in frustration, then continues, “Armie - maybe you don’t care about the impact for yourself - and I can see from the stubborn set of your jaw that perhaps you do not. Still, you care about Timmy. He’s too talented to lose his career to a silly American scandal...and you care too deeply about Timmy to do that to him”.

If it is only a guess, it’s a good one. But that shouldn’t surprise me. Luca is a true observer - he’s seen through me - on and off camera - when I am being less, giving less than what the situation required. He knows me better than anyone who has ever directed me. He has one thing wrong, though - and I tell him, “I don’t just ‘care for’ Timmy, I love him. I do. It’s not...I didn’t know...not exactly...not when it started...but Elizabeth, you probably did. I love Timmy”, I manage to smile at my steel magnolia of a southern woman. It can’t be easy to hear, even if she knew - but she doesn’t turn a hair.

 

* * *

###  **Timothèe**

Behind the door, I hear Armie’s voice - he sounds angry. He barks out, ‘Hide?’, so venomously that I feel a frisson of fear. I’m about to retreat when a line from _Gone With the Wind_ drawls through my brain, “Eavesdroppers often hear the most instructive things”.

I wait to hear the response. It’s from Luca. Luca is telling Armie to give me up. That the scandal will ruin my career and implicitly - ruin his picture. Everything is silent for a heartbeat, then Armie replies, “I don’t just care for Timmy…”, the rest is lost in a mumble and tears fill my eyes again. I look up - the remedy taught to high school girls and theatre kids who don’t want their mascara to run - and take a deep breath. They are discussing my future, too, _our future_ , dammit, and without me. I force my face to relax and go blank and walk through the door. Only then do I realize - Armie and Luca are not alone - Armie’s wife is sitting with her back to the doorway, and she weighs in.

“Listen now, Husband - I gave you my blessing, but you need to consider - REALLY consider - the optics of the situation. Instead of a genre-changing film about young gay love, do you want _Call Me By Your Name_ to become ‘the movie where that blonde guy from Facebook cheated on his pregnant wife with his barely-legal costar’?”.

I stand frozen at the threshold; Armie looks at Elizabeth like she just started declaiming in Latin, “You’re…”.

“...due in early January. It’s early - too early to tell people but we were coming to visit...”, Elizabeth smiles tearfully as Armie scoops her up from her chair.

“....I was NEVER going to tell you like this - but…”, Armie sets her back on the couch and slides to his knees in front of her - kissing her belly.

Luca alone noticed my entrance; he doesn’t even glance at Armie and Elizabeth but moves towards me. If he touches me, I will lose it...and I cannot, _cannot_ lose it now.  I smile because people having babies is always happy news. Armie looks up - his eyes follow Luca and land on me.

“Your door was open. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to intrude on such a private moment with your family”, I stammer.

“You aren’t intruding…”, Armie starts.

“Timothee, it’s lovely to finally meet you”, Elizabeth withdraws Armie’s hands, but she is sensitive enough not to touch me.

“Likewise - congratulations, Elizabeth”, I smile automatically. It is the correct response, but it feels like a confession - _you’ve won, I knew you would._

Luca reads the situation perfectly, “Armie, Elizabeth - congratulation to you both.  Timmy, I was here to ask you to dinner, are you free?”.

Armie is about to speak but Elizabeth silences him with a look. His face is unguarded, with a child-like sadness that I simply cannot face right now.

“ _Je reste à votre entière disposition pour tout, Luca. Allons-y”,_ Luca and I nod to Armie and Elizabeth and return to my apartment. I close the door and lean against it.  Luca turns towards me with an expression of both understanding and sorrow.

“Don’t...please. Not...not yet”, I beg, my voice close to breaking. Luca nods. “I’m going to shower - then you are going to take me to dinner….anywhere they aren’t”.

“ _Bien sûr_ ”, Luca agrees, then pours us both a glass of wine.

  



	5. Che gli Bruciava il Cuore*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God this is hard. I did not handle this well, or...properly. I...I just thought - I love them both so well, they are going to love each other too. And - I think they might, still, but….for fuck’s sake - Timmy’s face when he was congratulating Elizabeth - it’s been haunting me.
> 
> He has to open the door. He has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again - a million thank-you's to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy, world's greatest beta reader. :)

###  Elizabeth

Luca and Timmy left the apartment and I’m finally alone with my husband. Is it strange that it should feel like such a Pyrrhic victory?  Because - in general - this trip has been a spiralling disaster,...an elaborate set-up of dominos...or more accurately, a nuclear chain-reaction. 

The first sex with the Husband in a month is interrupted by his director...who barged in because he thought I was my husband's male lover. That is not a sentence I ever thought I would say - even in the privacy of my mind. 

The Husband doesn’t seem fussed about the interruption, per se - but he takes extreme issue with his director’s heartfelt, accurate, but ill-timed critique.  And this is the second visit to Upside-down-World, because Armie hero-worships this man and he would normally accept that the sky is green and the grass is blue if Luca said it was so. 

I get so flustered - I’ll blame hormones - that I blurt out the pregnancy news like it’s incidental to the point about discretion that Luca is trying to drum into him.  The cherry on top? Our pregnancy news comes out just in time for Timmy to overhear, and how devastated did he look? Poor love. Now Armie is a mess of sad and confused and Nikki will be back with Harper in tow in 30 minutes.

I watch Armie stare at his hands, while he sits on the floor next to me and I can’t think of one thing to say. He knows Timmy is hurt, but I don’t think he realizes just how badly. Timmy needs time. I find myself hoping he will come around - or Armie’s heart will just break into a thousand pieces. And that, in turn, will break mine because I love to see him happy. Armie’s happiness is as big and broad as the Texas horizon at sunset. I curse the people who made him believe he wasn’t worthy of happiness because it always seems to take him by surprise when he finds it.

Now, my husband looks like a lost little boy. It’s a look I’ve grown to love. Despite all the Hollywood and swagger, Armie has an innocence about him - easily happy, easily hurt - his heart is the genuine article. 

Then again, most people would not think ‘innocence’ when they see my strapping 6’5” husband mouthing off about bondage or vodka on some late night show or interview, but that’s a bit of the shy man's gambit - smoke and mirrors to deflect away from who he really is. 

Not that he dislikes bondage - I saw the marks on Timmy, you just need to know where to look. 

To witness him with Timmy, together - even for a moment, ….even under these impossible circumstances - I am certain that he  _ has _ found happiness with Timmy. Then I take a moment to school myself - because that does not take away from my husband’s happiness with me and our family and I have no cause to be jealous.  

My momma always told us, “Can’t never could” - and I took it to heart. When he called me in early May, I told myself that I could say ‘no’, but now I am not sure that is true. I was afraid of the consequences of ‘no’.  He wanted Timmy so desperately - he was already more than half in love with him -  even if he didn’t realize that - I did.  If I never brought it up when he called - if I never gave my permission I wonder if, in the end, I’d just have to grant forgiveness instead? 

I don’t think my husband can ignore when he falls in love. He’s a Romantic with a capital R. And if it’s something or even someone he does truly love, I would never force him to choose. I suppose I’m a romantic, too. But though I know - this is show business, we are married, we have a child and another on the way....the fear that Armie might not choose me makes tears prickle in the corners of my eyes. 

_ Enough _ , Elizabeth _! It’s the hormones - pregnancy craziness.  _

To Armie’s infinite credit, he shakes off his sombre mood and expression. I smile back even though there is a part of me that dies a little when his sadness over his new love overshadowed what ought to be his joy with his old one. He curls around me, his massive hands rubbing my (still nonexistent) belly and he asks me how I’m feeling and did I have an instinct about whether we were having a boy or a girl. “A boy”, I said, “an amazing, beautiful boy - just like his daddy”. 

Armie snorts, I trace his long hair with my fingers. We kiss - it’s sweet, gentle. I wonder if it’s different from how he kisses Timmy and then quickly banish the thought. 

Harper and Nikki return from riding around Crema - we all head out to dinner. Armie is silent for a long minute when the waiter asks if the entire party is there; I step in and say it is. Tim isn’t coming. We have a lovely evening - even though Harper is getting to that special place in tired where a melt-down seems imminent. Armie scoops her up and walks her around the piazza. She’s asleep in minutes, nestled against his neck. We walk back to the flat and put her down, then return to our bed. I am too tired to pick up where we left off earlier - and feel strangely unmotivated to do so. Next to me, I can feel Armie awake - fidgeting with his phone.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want him to at least try to re-initiate lovemaking, even though I’d have said no. He didn’t; his mind is wandering - and where to, I can guess. Without moving, without even opening my eyes, I tell him, “Husband - I don’t think you are going to be able to sleep if you don’t speak to him, so why don’t you go over there?”

“But it’s your first night here…”

“And I’ve been travelling for more than 12 hours, and I’m pregnant - you get sleepy, making a whole person. Go. Come back to me in the morning - early, so Hops doesn’t miss you”.

Armie doesn’t reply, but he barely hesitates. He pulls on a shirt and jeans, kisses me passionately, and leaves me alone in our bed.

  
  


###  Armie

God this is hard. I did not handle this well, or...properly. I...I just thought  -  _ I love them both so well, they are going to love each other too.  _ And - I think they might, still, but….for fuck’s sake - Timmy’s face when he was congratulating Elizabeth - it’s been haunting me.

He has to open the door. He has to.

He doesn’t - Luca does, wearing pajamas. I am instantly, insanely, irrationally jealous.

“Armie - perhaps now is not the best time….”

“Luca - let me see him. Please, I need to...I need to see him.”

Luca restrains me gently by the shoulder, “Armie - what about what he needs? Look - this is …’space’, not banishment, yes?”

My mind is careening around like ball-bearings in a funnel; I almost start laughing - Luca reminds me of Friar Laurence in  _ Romeo and Juliet _ . The ending that implies nearly brings me to tears. I am about to beg, “Luca..”, when Timmy appears in the doorway to our bedroom.

“It’s OK, Luca. Look Armie - I don’t want to keep you from your family, maybe we could….”

“I love you”. 

I’ve never met anyone so open and emotionally honest. Every feeling, every thought registers in slow sequence across his face; first surprise, then a sort of almost desperate bewilderment - tinged with anger. I want to take him in my arms and kiss him until we both can breathe again, but I can’t move.

“I...I don’t think I understand…”, Timmy holds his hand up, as though he were warding me off, “You’re having a baby…”.

Luca releases me and turns to Timmy, “Timothèe - If you are pleased to discuss this, I won’t stay - just let me change - unless you want me here?”.

Timmy shakes his curls, “No, I...we need to discuss this. Then we can all get some sleep - you are welcome to stay, the guest room is already made up”. 

Luca shakes his head, retreating from the lounge and emerges, fully dressed, in less time than it takes Superman in a phone booth. Neither Timmy nor I have moved or spoken. Luca wraps Timmy in a warm embrace - whispering a few words of encouragement to him that I cannot hear. He pats my shoulder too. Timmy watches Luca leave, and closes the door behind him. When he turns back to face me, he looks so tired and sad; it kills me that I am the reason behind this.

I hold open my arms, but he only looks at me, saying, “Do you think that is a good idea?”.

“Yes. Emphatically yes - Timmy, I want to make this right. I didn’t handle it properly - I need to fix that with you if you will let me. But right now, I want to kiss you so badly I can hardly think straight. Please let me touch you - it’s killing me right now that you are barely a foot away and I can’t at least hold you”.

Timmy moves as if to walk past me, but knocks his shoulder into my chest - pushing me back into the lounge. He winds his arms around my neck and I pull him to me. He kisses me and I taste salt. I devour it from his lips. I can feel my lungs expand again. 

I lift him, his legs encircling my waist, and carry him towards our room. We never stop kissing - it’s desperate, raw and filled with pain and longing. When I lay him on the bed, he immediately pulls me down to him, while tugging his t-shirt over his head. I fumble with the button of my jeans and he practically tears my hands away to remove it himself. “I need  _ your _ skin”, he repeats back my words from our first night in a broken whisper. 

As I move down his chest, I feel his hands in my hair again, yanking me back on top of him. It hurts. He isn’t being gentle. I don’t know if I say that aloud, or just whimper, but Timmy answers, “I can’t be, not tonight”.

I hear the lube click open and the cold gel coats my fingers. Timmy spreads his thighs just wide enough for me to settle in between. I trace the curve of his ass then slip the first finger into his body. He bites down hard on my shoulder. “Another”, he urges. His head is tipped back, exposing the whole of his throat. I work him open as quickly as I can, but it doesn’t seem fast enough. Soon he is rolling a condom onto me and slicking my cock with lube. He shoves me over on my back and throws his leg over me. Holding on to the headboard, he eases himself down, wincing at the stretch.

“Easy, easy….I don’t want to hurt you…”, I murmur and Timmy laughs mirthlessly and rides me hard. Once he is used to the stretch, he moves roughly - slamming me in and out until we are both gasping. The residual lube allows Timmy to fuck my hand until his movements become erratic and we are seconds from orgasming together. He grinds down right before he spills, and that sends me over the edge while buried deep inside him. 

Neither of us speaks as we clean up in the aftermath. Timmy presses his forehead against my chest as he eases off my cock.  I tip him over on to the bed and pull him close to me, arranging the covers over us.   

“Do you have to go now?”, he asks sleepily. 

“Not until morning - Elizabeth would still like meet you if you are game tomorrow?”, I respond uncertainly.

“Ask me again tomorrow. Tomorrow we can sort it out”, and he turns away from me and falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _* Volle spegner la fiamma/ Che gli bruciava il core._  
>  He wanted to extinguish the flame/ That burnt in his heart.  
>  _Cavalleria Rusticana_ by Pietro Mascagni


	6. Amami Sempre - Love Me Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie never told me he loved me before; it felt like something momentous. Perhaps it is - but all I can think is how insufficient love feels right now. What does it mean for me to love you and for you to love me if we don’t have a place in each other’s lives? We could have been something to each other - perhaps in a different world - we could have even been everything to each other. But Armie has someone attached to the role of his ‘everything’. The only thing I don’t know is - why is she sleeping alone while he is here with me?

###  Luca

My partner turns over in bed as I enter our bedroom, “I thought you were staying with Timothèe?”

“Ah - I was, then Armie came to him….”

He rolls his eyes, “ _ Che brutto scherzo  _ \- you go to talk to them, all of hell breaks loose, and then  _ il piccolo angelo _ gets carried back to the dark side by your  _ muvi star”. _

_ “ _ Armie is a blonde Hollywood-style leading man, not a  _ mago malvagio.  _ But he needs to be a grown man, and sometimes he acts younger than Timothèe”.

Ferdinando snorts, he’s never allowed himself to be charmed by Armie. I strip down and climb into bed, “It felt like a scene I’d blocked when I was feeling particularly melodramatic. Armie arrived past midnight, bursting through the door - begging me to let him see Timothèe  - then Timothèe appears and Armie blurts out: “I love you”...Jim couldn’t have scripted it better”. 

I stretch out on our bed, considering, “Well, perhaps he could - because I suspect there wasn’t much else that was said,...though much needed saying”.

“ _ Cuore mio _ , will it affect the picture?”

I sit for a moment, considering the question, “No...Timothèe may be young, but he is professional. Armie….I will guide Armie if I can.”

Ferdinando rolls his eyes and sighs expressively. I can’t say I blame him for doubting. I, too, doubt - but there is no action I can take until the morning, so I curl into my partner's neck and go to sleep. 

###  Timothèe 

We always fall asleep intertwined, but not tonight. Tonight, I turn my back to him as soon as I’m able and feign sleep so I won’t have to look at the situation that I created.   _ Fuck.  _ We should have talked...Or - better - I should have let Luca send him away. 

I lied to myself. Twice. 

First, I harboured some delusional belief that I could talk to him and not give in immediately - when that is so untrue that it’s almost comical. And if it is difficult when Armie is inviting me to supper or making us watch Mike Tyson documentaries for the 10th time, it is damn near impossible when he is saying “I love you” with the look of a drowning man. 

The second lie? I told myself,  _ Armie is stubborn - he’s not going to leave without seeing me…  _ When it’s closer to the truth to say I couldn’t listen to him sound hurt and beg without being moved….ah, dammit. And now he’s in my bed, on a hall pass that expires at dawn. I can’t lay this at his feet. This is on me - being too stupidly besotted to give up a chance for just one more time. 

Armie said “I love you” - in front of Luca, even. Those words seem so powerful and rare. I was naive, thinking that “I love you” was a magical incantation that could fix everything between him and me. I wrapped my arms around him, breathed him in, and waited for the existential dread to dissolve. While he was working me open, I knew something wasn’t right. I shoved him over and rode him - as if bringing him physically closer could bridge the chasm opening between us. I bottomed out - and then I realized that “I love you” wasn’t what I needed to hear. 

My body took longer to catch up to my mind - but for the first time ever, I knew how Elio felt after making love with Oliver. That revulsion - it is the sick sensation that follows a revelation: this time, sex is more than recreation of the body. This time - and with this person - sex is a merging of souls - or it should be, but there is something off-kilter. Sex become vertiginous, the center can’t hold up when you are spinning so far out of alignment. 

Armie never told me he loved me before; it felt like something momentous. Perhaps it is - but all I can think is how insufficient love feels right now. What does it mean for me to love you and for you to love me if we don’t have a place in each other’s lives? We could have been something to each other - perhaps in a different world - we could have even been everything to each other. But Armie has someone attached to the role of his ‘everything’. The only thing I don’t know is - why is she sleeping alone while he is here with me?

###  Elizabeth

I thought for sure that a new morning, after a good night’s sleep, would put a fresh perspective on things. I woke to Armie tiptoeing into our shower - trying not to wake me, and  - in the process - making enough noise for a herd of elephants. One glance, and I knew that the time-tested adage about everything looking different in the morning only meant that I’m seeing my husband looking well-fucked and not by me. 

Still, there was no real happiness in his face. A part of my mind bristled - wouldn’t that be just like two men?  I tell him to go fix things with Timmy, then he or Tim or both tried their damnedest to fix things with their dicks. I have to believe that men who go in for full-time homosexuality eventually figure out that the mouth can be used for something other than blow-jobs, but I wonder how long it takes?  

No - that’s unfair...though I should ask Nikki about it some time.

When Armie emerges from the shower he kisses me and I tell myself it is absolutely only in my imagination that he smells differently, “Are you shooting today?”, I ask him. 

“Yes, though it’s not like in the ‘States. They take everything  _ bella liscia e lento  -  _ I thought we could all get breakfast together.”

My brows knit together in a frown, “Husband, did Timmy agree to that plan?”

Armie sits on the bed next to me, loosening his towel over his lap and leaning into my personal space, “He did not  _ not _ agree…”, he nuzzles into my neck, though his lap suggests that he’s not entirely committed to the idea. You can really tell at a glance with the Husband. I’m frustrated - in every meaning of the word in common usage. 

“Babe, you know that’s not the same thing…”, I’m about to question him - did he and Timmy talk or just fuck?  _ This is like trying to make sure Harper apologizes when she’s naughty at a play date.  _

_ Oh, hell.  _ And doesn’t that thought bring me up short?

“Why don’t the two of you go to breakfast solo? I’m going to do a little sightseeing with Hops and Nikki, we will come to see you at the end of your day. What time do you expect to wrap?”

“Six.”

“We will see you then.”

Harper comes pelting into the room, ending the discussion (and the nuzzling). Armie gets dressed quickly and carries her out to the lounge. I can hear him discussing the day’s plans with Nikki. His mobile is on the dresser - it lights up with a text...from Timmy. 

I don’t know I’m going to read it until I do. It’s harmless enough -  _ Going to S——, neEeeD espresso -  _ but it’s his contact picture that gets me. Tim is looking at the camera - his hair is a mess of tangles and his lips are parted and even redder than normal. He’s in a rumpled,  _ used  _ bed, shirtless, lying on his side - the focus is on his face - and the look in his eyes would melt a titanium chastity belt.  My God - in my single days, if a man looked at me like that - he’d either be getting lucky or slapped, and I would wager it’s the former.  I confess - until this moment, I didn’t understand Timmy’s allure. The Husband maintains a steady simmering sexiness born of good looks. I thought Timmy was handsome, but in a sweet and boyish way.

This is no boyish charm - this is sex appeal. Timmy apparently can turn smouldering intensity off and on, and - good Christ - when it is on, I don’t know who would be safe….or immune. 

Armie comes back to say goodbye - and sees me with the phone. I pass it back to him, wordlessly. He sees the message and the picture. He looks at me again, he is uncertain of what to say - and that makes two of us. To end our standoff, I kiss him breezily and enter the bathroom saying, “See you tonight, Husband”. 

When I return, he is gone. 

 

###  Luca

The next day Timothèe is early to set. I can hear Fernanda clucking over the dark circles under his eyes. He is wearing earphones and does not register when Armie enters the makeup trailer. 

Armie is a deep well of vulnerability that I want to explore as a director, but before I can do that - I must contend with the man himself.  _ E lui è un uomo addolorato;  _ he doesn’t speak, but casts sidelong glances at Timmy who is still immersed in his music and his script.  _ Iddio _ \- I should have never left the two of them alone to sort this through. 

Timothèe acknowledges his costar, but barely -and leaves the trailer. Armie smiles tentatively at Timmy as I wave Fernanda off for a moment. 

“That expression - when Elio is so desperate to leave Oliver’s bed after their first night - that smile is what I want to see”.

“Luca! I’m sorry I didn’t… Um, okay?”.

“That expression on your face tells a story without saying a word - that you thought one thing but suspect he felt another, that you don’t know where the two of you stand - it communicates everything about the uncertainty of love and the beloved - and the  _ fear.  _ The fear that you are alone once more, after sharing everything - that you have lost Elio, for good. It speaks of the paralysis - because you might never have this wonderful experience again-but you are terrified to even ask him what is wrong, because fearing it is over and hearing it stated aloud are two different things. Use this, Armie.”

As I speak - a host of conflicting emotions play out across his face, but by the end - it settles into profound sadness and longing. Armie looks up at me with wounded, wet eyes - as brilliant and blue as the Aegean “Timmy, he….”.

“Go to him -  ‘I love you’ is only the beginning - a promising beginning - but a beginning nonetheless- for all that you needed to say to each other”.

Armie studies my face - waiting for me to tell him what to do, but he needs to solve this on his own. If I say anything else, it will become a script for him - and that it must not be. He looks down, and nods then heads out in search of Timothèe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally - I'm cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com over on Tumblr. :)


	7. You Wanna Keep me Now?...Don’t let me down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watch Timmy’s face - his emotions play so close to the surface; confessing my feelings for him feels like skating on a pond in early winter - with the danger of falling through thin ice cracking beneath my feet. There are tears in his eyes, but he isn’t crying. I do not realize that I am until he brushes my tears away and I lean into his hand.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> “Armie - what are you asking me for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You all a MILLION times over for the kudos and comments - the good news is - this section became so large that you will have at least a couple chapters to read over this weekend.  
> As always - the biggest 'Thank you' goes to my beta extraordinaire, Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy - for shepherding this through.

###  Armie

I leave the makeup trailer to find Timmy. I don’t know if there are any magic words that can right things between us, but I have to try. I find him in the bedroom of the Villa, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders to keep the chill from the rain away. He smiles when he sees me but his smile is thin. 

“Hey. I...Jesus, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you - and it’s only been a few hours”, I stare at Timmy, examining every angle of his face - which is coalescing into a sharp frown. Quickly, I continue, “Timmy, I’m sorry. I fucked up”.

I kneel on the bed next to him. He pulls the blanket closer and stares into the middle distance when he replies, “No, it wasn’t you. Well, wasn’t  _ only _ you. It’s all good”.

“No. Don’t do that - honestly, don’t let me get away with this”, I gesture between us, “We are _ not  _ all good”.

“But we are. Look, I get it. You’re not gonna leave your wife - you never were, I know that. I’m not forcing any sort of choice on you. I’m young, but I’m not totally naive. I understand how this works.”

“Well, I’m glad you do because I have no idea.”

Timmy shoots me a sceptical look, “This is not hard…”

“You think, because I’m older, that I have all the answers - but let me tell you, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I know how an affair plays out. Some fling while we are on location - that’s  _not_ what you are to me. Not now, not ever”.

“Really? Man - if you say so - but then - what the fuck? I’m outta my depth here.”

“You think I’m not?”, I take Timmy’s hands in mine, “Look - there’s one thing I know, and that is: if we  _ can  _ make a go of this...you and me being together, it won’t look like your mom and dad. This is going to be the furthest thing from conventional. But that doesn’t mean that it is nothing.  It doesn’t mean that it can’t be every bit as good as what you and I and everyone we know was raised to believe is all we could hope for.”

I watch Timmy’s face - his emotions play so close to the surface; confessing my feelings for him feels like skating on a pond in early winter - with the danger of falling through thin ice cracking beneath my feet. There are tears in his eyes, but he isn’t crying. I do not realize that I am until he brushes my tears away and I lean into his hand.

“Armie - what are you asking me for?”

“Time? That we don’t kill what is between us before we figure out what it could be?”

I wait, barely breathing, for him to reach a verdict. 

“All right.”

I reach to embrace him, but he stays my arms, “No, wait. I have a few conditions. First - we can’t do what we did last night. I’m not saying it’s over - I just need a break to think about this - really think about it - and I don’t think clearly when we are wrapped up in each other”.

I stifle my visceral response to Timmy’s words, which is to overwhelm him with kisses and blot out the world that might take him away from me. I am terrified that - on the balance - I won’t be worth the heartache. With his uncanny ability to see through me, he brings my forehead to his lips and whispers, “You are so big, you block the world out. But if you mean what you say - if you want us to be together in the real world - then I need to be sure it’s what I want, too”.

I nod, then ask with a forced grin, “What is the second condition?”.

I can feel his smile against my forehead - he sits back, looks me in the eye and says, “I’m going to have to meet Elizabeth”.

“Yeah - great, she’ll be here at 6, we could do dinner, and….”

“Alone. I need to talk to Elizabeth alone - just her and me”.

I stare into his eyes, feeling hopelessly in love and scared out of my mind simultaneously. Timmy doesn’t flinch; I agree, “I’ll text her right now - will 9 pm work?”

“Admirably.

###  Elizabeth

When I get Armie’s text, “Wife - Dinner plans have changed. Timmy really wants to meet you - reservation for 2 at S———- under ‘La Famiglia Hammer’ xoxo”, all I can think is:  _ Really, Husband? Then - Tim may be young, but he’s no fool. It’s impressive. He’s got Armie obeying like a puppy in what? A month?  _

I walk a napping Harper in her pram over to a small cafe with outdoor tables, order an espresso and consider my options.

 

###  Timothèe

During the a break in filming, I find a secluded spot and ring my sister, Pauline. Once she gets over her initial shock - for when do I ever use a phone as a phone? - her first question is ‘What’s wrong?’

Perhaps my answering sigh is enough to tell her. 

“Timo - I thought things were good with the Man from Uncle?”

“Better before his wife and family came to town…”

_ “Oooo” _

_ “..his  _ pregnant wife.”

“Shit, Timmy...”, I can hear Pauline cranking into overprotective big sister mode.

“Armie says she’s okay with it - and he still wants us to be together”.

“He means while you are on location?”

“No, longer term….”

“What the hell does that look like?”

“....So I told him if we were going to even think about that I had to meet his wife…”

“Ah,….”

“Alone.”

“Oh! Well, now it’s getting interesting. Like one of Gran’s ‘stories’.”

“Fuckin’....Pauline, don’t make fun of me right now, ‘Kay? I have no idea why I did that...I just…”

“No. It’s good - your instincts are solid. Ok - so she’s got position on you. She’s his wife, mother of his children, right?”

“What was I thinking? She nearly disembowelled some chick for dancing with Armie, once. And I told him I wanted to have dinner with her! And he could fuck off for the duration….am I insane?”

“Ok - little brother - pull yourself together. You have to learn how to read her.”

“Dinner is at 9, P.”

“Plenty of time. You just need to know one thing: is she completely confident she has you beat - or is she on the defensive?  If it’s the former - you’ve been played by the Lone Ranger - but if it’s the latter,....”

“He loves his wife. They aren’t - I’m not coming between them.”

“I’m not saying you are”, explains Pauline patiently, “but you will know if you are something unique in their relationship, something  _ new.” _

_ “ _ Meaning _?” _

“Meaning the Winklevaii are sincere - and you stand a chance to negotiate for the sort of relationship you could be happy with - at least for a while”.

I close my eyes and allow myself the smallest of private sighs, but my Machiavellian sibling has a point. “OK - what am I looking for? What should I do?”

 

###  Elizabeth

I am in the flat when Armie returns around 6:30, in an absolutely thunderous mood judging by his expression. He kisses me, gets down on the carpet to play with Harper briefly before her 7 o’clock bedtime. Nikki ‘volunteers’ to put her down, clearing the way for us to talk - even though I would rather just get ready for dinner in peace. 

“Wife - I don’t like this, I don’t like it one bit.”

“Well - it’s what Timmy wants.”

“That’s just it - I created this...situation. And now I’m forcing you into a scenario where you’ll be uncomfortable - meeting my...Timmy... to discuss...god only knows what”.

“It will be fine, Husband.”

“No - no, I am not having it. I’ll call Tim - tell him that we are going to dinner together - the three of us - and we will discuss what happens next like adults”, Armie reaches for his phone, but I’m faster.

“Armand Douglas Hammer, do you think I was born yesterday? You might be big, but I can see through all 6-foot-5-inches of you. You don’t give a good goddamn about my feelings, or what your boyfriend wants. You just want to be there to steamroll over the rough spots and push through with what YOU want.”

“That is not true…”   


“That is GOSPEL. You are such a control freak. You’re impossible. Timmy. Wants. This. He wants to talk to me - alone - and you know what?  That’s what I want, too.”

“Elizabeth…”

“No - you listen good - I have given you more slack in the line than any man has the right to ask his wife for. I can tell you love him - I’m not going to keep you from that. But you can’t play the cowboy here. This isn’t ‘accidentally’ talking about bondage on the Late Show, or getting wasted at dinner in Russia...this is your life, and my life, and Timmy’s. You can’t play fast and loose with this. And if this meeting is what your boyfriend wants - what he needs to feel comfortable being a part of our lives - you cannot deny him that, Husband. No matter how out-of-control it makes you feel. This is for him, and for me”.

Over the course of my speech, I watched Armie go from indignant to completely cowed. There is a part of me that wonders if he doesn’t like being put in his place, but I don’t have much time to think on it. Armie follows me into the bedroom, where he does his best to delay my getting dressed - and for just about 30 minutes, I let him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Pretty Sweet**  
>  __  
> You wanna keep me now....  
>  Don't let me down  
>   
> Frank Ocean


	8. Quello che m'hai da di', dimmelo pure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our reservation at S——- is for 9 pm.  When I walk through the door at 9:15, Timmy is already seated at a quiet table towards the rear of the restaurant. He’s wearing obscenely tight dark jeans and a form-fitting v-neck t-shirt. Very European. His hair is slicked back a little, with a single curl breaking out of formation and trailing over his eyes. He stands when I approach the table and greets me with an almost-shy smile. I cross to him and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, “So nice to finally meet you, Timmy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ####  Si No Me Moro
> 
> Anything you have to say, just say it to me -  [Stornello Romano alla Gabriella Ferri](https://open.spotify.com/track/1yOC6TxmMZOtfiQreAOvEi)

### Elizabeth

Our reservation at S——- is for 9 pm.  When I walk through the door at 9:15, Timmy is already seated at a quiet table towards the rear of the restaurant. He’s wearing obscenely tight dark jeans and a form-fitting v-neck t-shirt. Very European. His hair is slicked back a little, with a single curl breaking out of formation and trailing over his eyes. He stands when I approach the table and greets me with an almost-shy smile. I cross to him and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, “So nice to finally meet you, Timmy.”

I sit down, look briefly at the menu, then signal the waiter who appears as quickly as a genie summoned from a lamp. I take control of the ordering - just like any other business meeting, there’s a certain amount of posturing before we can begin. At first I think, _he’s sizing me up_ , but after a bit of small talk - I realize, _he’s checking me out...so, not entirely gay after all._

### Timothèe

Elizabeth arrives late for our dinner, in what Pauline would call ‘full battle dress’. She wears a simple sheath that barely skims the tops of her thighs - full makeup, jewellery, heels. She is beautiful, elegant and I would feel hopelessly outclassed if not for the earlier conversation with my sister.

_If she comes in full makeup with a fine dress on, you know she’s playing defence. That’s what women do - you don’t go to battle without your armour._

_She has no reason to be scared of me. I’m not trying to take her husband…_

_Two things, little brother - and don’t you forget them.  One: what you’re trying to do and what he wants may not be the same thing. And Two: even if you are right, she may not know what Armie wants yet._

For all the advantage that Pauline’s assessment was designed to give me, I am at a loss when Elizabeth - instead of sitting down - first crosses to my side of the table and kisses me on the cheek.

“Well now. You are handsome...the Husband has good taste.”

Before I can muster a response, the waiter - Alfio - comes to our table and Elizabeth has ordered our antipasto, primi, and a bottle of wine.

 

### Elizabeth

Our waiter pours the wine for both of us, (which I sip - then ignore) and casts a longing, indirect look Timmy’s way. To Tim’s credit, he appears to not even notice the flirtation. Through the first course, we speak of Crema, the unseasonably poor weather, his school, my bakery...in short, anything to keep us away from the topic at hand. I live among actors, hell - I’m married to one - but there is nothing of performance in Timothèe’s responses. His interest in me and our life seems genuine.

Underneath the curiosity, I notice his quiet appraisal that provides an undercurrent for the whole meal - and I find myself wondering: if this is a test, did we pass or fail? When I catch myself in that thought - it pulls me up short. Why should I care if my husband’s boyfriend approves of our life?  It’s our life!  But then it hits me - I want Timothèe to approve because his approval means he can see a place for himself here, as part of our life - even beyond this interlude in Crema. And the Husband wants that so desperately, he was willing to let Timothèe and I work this out together, even though it flies in the face of every control-freak instinct Armie has.

I’ve lost the thread of our conversation entirely; Timmy notices and is looking at me questioningly. I lay down my fork - the waiter has brought the main course and won’t interrupt for a while - and plunge forward.

“Timmy - I’m glad you wanted to meet me - and I am happy that you were comfortable enough to do it one-on-one. I think there are things we need to say that Armie just can’t be a party to. He’ll try to fix it, you see. Force it, if he has to - but in this situation, that kind of thinking won’t help.”

Timmy nods, he seems almost relieved that I am just ripping off the proverbial band-aid, so I soldier on, “Look - I think you know this, but it’s still worth saying - Armie is my husband, and that’s not going to change: not behind closed doors, and certainly not in the eyes of the world. That would be career suicide for both of you, among other things.

I like you - and it is obvious how Armie feels, but I’m no fool. No man asks his wife for permission to cheat, but this man is being granted that permission. And in return, all I ask is your discretion, and that you take care of him - he covers it up with a lot of big-mouthed brashness, but Armie’s a sensitive soul”, I am proud that my voice remains even and my eyes do not tear. Even with the hormones, I might be able to make it through this without going to pieces.

Timmy is silent for a long moment - when he looks up - he asks, “Elizabeth - why? Why are you doing this? I dunno...it seems like...no one should be doing this”. I hear the words he does not say, too _Armie shouldn’t have asked this of you._

“Was there any way you could have said no to my husband?”

Timmy blushes deeply, but his brilliant green eyes meet mine when he answers, simply, “No.”

“I know. I don’t give Armie this kind of….dispensation...lightly. But, there _are_ times when it’s the only thing to do...the only thing that’s right. I won’t stand in the way of love”.

Timmy glances away, saying that he never mentioned love, I reply, “But that’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Timothèe is silent.

 

### Timothèe

We walk home together, Elizabeth is hanging off my arm. I imagine it must be an occupational hazard of high heels on cobblestone streets because I am fairly certain I drank most of the wine. By an antique street lamp, I wrap my jacket around her shoulders when the evening mist turns into rain. We huddle beneath an archway that leads to a small courtyard.  I can hear her breathing, smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her pressing against me. She looks up - her chocolate brown eyes misty and wide - and without thinking - I kiss her. Our kiss is soft, like a worrisome question that elicits a mild answer - just the ghost of our lips testing each other. There is an attraction, but no passion. She breaks away and smiles into my shoulder - I smile back and for a moment, we are in perfect accord. “Well, it was worth a try, don’t you think?”, she giggles.

“Definitely!”, I agree with a bit too much enthusiasm - then she tips her head back and we both laugh, loudly. I still have her caged by my arms against the wall, when we hear a voice in the darkness.

“Wife? Timmy?”, Armie rounds the corner holding two umbrellas to see me with my arm around Elizabeth and her head lolling on my shoulder.

 

### Elizabeth

“What is this?”, Armie’s voice is sharp with disapproval. Timmy’s eyes widen, and he begins to drop his arms but I take hold of his hand as he does. I continue to lean against his shoulder.

“Oh Armie, _enough!_ If anyone gets cast as the wronged spouse in this little telenovela, it will _certainly not_ be you. I can tell from the look on your face, you aren’t even sure which scenario sets you off more: me with Tim or Tim with me”.

“Well, I….”

“Who did you have spying on us?”

“Spying on us?!”, Timmy straightens up, shoulders back. Any hint of guilt is washed away in an instant and replaced with righteous indignation, “Armie? What the hell?”.

Armie’s big mad deflates immediately, “I just…”

“Alfio”, Timmy realizes, “I thought he was staring at me funny.”

“Who is Alfio?”

“Our waiter.”

“Oh - well maybe, but - Timmy, Sweetheart - Alfio was flirting with you - or at least trying to - not that you acknowledged it, I don’t think you even saw it, really”.

Armie cuts in, “He was what?”.

“Oh my God! _No_ , Armie! OK, so not Alfio the Waiter, then who?”

“Giuliana…”

“The hostess?”, Timmy snaps, “Jesus.”.

“I just wanted to know when you set out - so you’d be safe walking home….and then it started to rain, and I thought...”.

“You thought since Giuliana also reported that things looked tense during the main course, that you would just pop up like a magician with umbrellas in a rainstorm and smooth everything over?”.

“Well, I….”

“I’m never going to be able to set foot in that place again - what did you tell Giuliana? What did she think she was looking _for_?”, Timmy asks the million dollar question. How much did Armie’s need for information overbalance his wife’s and boyfriend’s need for privacy? We both stare at him expectantly.

“ _NOTHING”._

We continue to glare.

“Just - y’know - you guys had got off on the wrong foot, and were having dinner to clear the air….nothing that requires security clearance…”, he finishes peevishly.

Timmy is not as tall as Armie, and he generally has that tendency of tall adolescents of curling in on himself. But right now, he is drawn up to his full height and is somehow looking down on Armie, who has four inches on him, “Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again. Spying is just...it’s out of line. This isn’t some…some...episode of _Twilight_ ”.

Armie is chastened, but he can’t help grinning at the last line, “I think you are much more the sparkly vampire type than me, Timmy”.

Tim’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, but he relents when he sees Armie’s puppy dog eyes. _Amateur…_

 _“_ Charming people into becoming auxiliary members of your wolf pack counts, too”.

“The rain is letting up”, I comment.

My husband offers me his jacket and wraps Timmy back up in his own. He tucks me under his right arm and slides his left around Timmy as we head out into the midnight rain in Crema.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always - thank you for the kudos/comments/recs! It's official: I've lost all shame about writing an RPF as long Armie and Timmy keep providing a live-action version on every award ceremony and talk show :D


	9. Dolci Sogni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So that’s all that happened? You ate dinner, kissed his wife under a romantic archway in the rain, got caught by Illya..."
> 
>  
> 
> "Armie"
> 
>  
> 
> "Whatever...and everyone had a good giggle and arbitrarily decided that all was simpatico?”
> 
> “That’s the long and short of it.”
> 
> “Why was he even there?”
> 
> “Um - out walking, I guess?”
> 
> I realize just how problematic the spying thing is when I edit it out of my account of the evening to Pauline. I should be ashamed of myself. What lengths, what depths, what limits do I observe when it comes to Armie? _Immersive - that’s what I wanted, isn’t it?_ It loses some of its appeal when the boundary between being immersed and being drowned begins to blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy, world's greatest beta reader - who really had her work cut out for her with this chapter.

### Timothèe

“So that’s all that happened? You ate dinner, kissed his wife under a romantic archway in the rain, got caught by Illya..."

"Armie"

"Whatever...and everyone had a good giggle and arbitrarily decided that all was simpatico?”

“That’s the long and short of it.”

“Why was he even there?”

“Um - out walking, I guess?”

I realize just how problematic the spying thing is when I edit it out of my account of the evening to Pauline. I should be ashamed of myself. What lengths, what depths, what limits do I observe when it comes to Armie? _Immersive - that’s what I wanted, isn’t it?_ It loses some of its appeal when the boundary between being immersed and being drowned begins to blur. Still, I cannot stay angry about the spying; Armie did it so very poorly, it’s as though he was trying to apologize for needing to do it at all.

In some ways, I get why he did it. Going into that dinner, I didn’t have much hope that there could be any future for us. I heard those ‘three little words’ that he said to me - they solved nothing. No matter how I felt about Armie, I never said them back - I never completed the circuit. Elizabeth told me that Armie would try to smooth everything over, and she’s right - he would. And I would let him, because when have I **_not_ ** let Armie talk me around?

From the moment when she asked me “Could you have said no to Armie?”, Elizabeth has been unfailingly kind to me. I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say we have come to our own understanding. Of course, she understands - she loves him too.

* * *

 

That night, I left them at Armie’s flat. I went home, flipped open my laptop to watch some authentically mind-numbing TV when there was a knock at the door. Armie. Before I could speak, his hands were in my hair and he kissed me until I was breathless and hard.

“I didn’t get to kiss you goodnight”, he whispered.

“I really didn’t expect…”, I trailed off - I couldn’t  remember what I expected or didn’t expect when he was tracing his tongue along the veins of my neck.

“No? Then let me continue to surprise you”, Armie tried to manoeuvre me towards the bedroom.

“Armie, hold up...stop”, and he does, immediately, “Elizabeth is only here for a few more days”, Armie looked at me with those puppy dog eyes that are an absolute menace to my willpower, but I persevered.

“So…?”, he asked.

“So, I’ll see you at S------- for coffee at 6:30”, I replied, practically shoving him over the threshold. I pressed against him for one last kiss, “And thanks for coming to kiss me goodnight”, then I closed the door behind him.

* * *

 

Elizabeth’s visit - what little there remains of it - passes without incident. I don’t avoid spending time with his family, nor do I actively seek it out. Armie, on the other hand, busies himself scheduling ‘family’ dinners and movie nights, trying to include me in every one. If he had his way in all things, which - I can plainly see - he does NOT with Elizabeth, I suspect he’d want the three of us to bed down for the night together. And yet, his anger when he found Elizabeth and me in the archway was not faked.

I do not expect to spend time one-on-one with him outside of shooting until his family has gone - but around 2 AM, I feel the opposite side of my mattress dip and I am surrounded by Armie.

“Hmmm - you smell good”, he murmurs into my neck. I feel cold when he lets me go long enough to strip out of his shirt and jeans.

“What are you doing here? What the hell time is it?”

“2:30? It’s a bed. I’m sleeping - you sleep, too”, with that - he wraps his arm around me and we both drift off. Armie gives me a taste of a much deeper intimacy than is possible through sex alone.

The next night, I wake from a fantastic dream - a bound Armie is trying to bring me off with only his mouth - to find myself instinctively shoving my already-hard cock down actual Armie’s throat. He comes to me dirty from other people's lovemaking - I can smell Elizabeth on his skin, taste her in his mouth. I pin him beneath me - he is so fucked out that he practically begs to bottom. I prepare him quickly, focused on chasing my own pleasure.  I try not to preen when, despite his exhaustion, his cock hardens completely the moment I slide into his body.

After the first time, Armie joins me every night that Elizabeth is here - in the early pre-dawn hours. When I ask him later about the timing, he laughs, “It was when Elizabeth wakes up to pee. She came back to bed, I kissed her, tucked her in, then I came to you”.

 

### Elizabeth

There was no formal decision following The Dinner - instead, we are slowly finding our way with each other. Armie returns to our bed after a quick stop at Timmy’s to kiss him goodnight. I immediately veto Armie’s proposed alternative sleeping arrangement: all three of us in one bed. _("Elizabeth - it's just to sleep!" "No, are you insane?")_ The next night, I wake around 2 to use the bathroom. When I return, Armie cuddles me until I’ve almost drifted off, then whispers that he is going to Timmy’s - I nod, kiss his lips and hold back tears until he’s gone.

It’s easier the next night, and the night after that.

Armie was always prone to crushes of the innocuous sort - but this is entirely new. He loves Timmy - he’s said that outright, but I can tell there is more to it. Armie is _in love_ with him - with all of the slightly crazed obsession that implies. Poor Timmy - I remember how it felt, to be on the receiving end of the Hammer ‘So-in-Love’ blitz - it’s like being trapped in a hurricane.

My husband is orchestrating to spend every last moment of our time together - which means he is thinking long-term, so I must think long-term, too. I tell Timmy about our place in LA - I know just which guest room should be his when he visits. Of course, they could stay in a hotel - but it is a huge risk - especially in LA. Everyone knows everyone and - at 6’5” - Armie sticks out like a sore thumb.  I cringe internally when Timmy talks about his flatshare in the East Village - but his roommates are friends and will hopefully be discreet.

There are more dinners with Luca, more movie nights. Armie is unfailingly attentive to me, spends as much time as possible with Harper, and watches Timmy constantly - at meals, even during Luca’s screenings. One evening, Harper is particularly fussy, so Armie takes her for a walk. I can tell he wanted Timothee to come with him, but Tim is deep in conversation with Esther and doesn’t notice. Armie leaves, and I feel Luca’s eyes trained on me. The film we are watching is noisy enough to cover any side conversations. I meet Luca’s eyes, then turn back to the screen.

 

### Luca

I can tell Elizabeth is watching, waiting for an opportunity to corner me. She is beautiful, she plays the domestic goddess and CEO - but there is a scheming quality to her. She wants what she wants, but she’s indirect. I am tempted to say “Out with It!” - but I know, now that the opportunity presents itself - she will not let it pass.  There is something she wants from me, very badly. I am about to discover what it is.

“You don’t need to worry - I’m not planning to cause a scene. There is a plane back to Texas tomorrow, and we will be on it”.

“Elizabeth, of course, we have enjoyed your stay...we are all family here”, I dissemble.

She smiles at me then, a ‘hostess’ smile - perfect, if insincere, “Luca - I know you love Timmy, just as you love my husband. You may not think much of me - but you ought to believe me when I tell you: what I am asking - I am not asking for my sake.”

I am surprised that she speaks so directly, so I answer in kind, “That depends, what are you asking?”

“The whole cast and most of the crew can plainly see that something is going on between Timmy and Armie. Timmy is young - he may risk something because he doesn’t know how to value it,...not yet, but he will learn. But Armie? I love my husband, but he is so damn bull-headed that I’ve threatened to brand him like the rest of our cattle”.

I cannot help laughing, “No, it’s an interesting idea...and quite an image”.

Elizabeth smiles conspiratorially, then continues, “I was there when you told Armie to be realistic. The thing is: _he was so upset that he never heard you._ He _needs_ to hear you”.

I try to deflect, but she repeats, firmly, “From You. He needs to hear it from  _you_ ”.

Several questions come to mind, but I discard them in favour of simplicity, “Elizabeth, all of this”, I gesture in the air - encompassing Timmy and Armie and Elizabeth together, “Why?”.

“You mean - why didn’t I prevent the whole inconvenient affair from happening?”, a shadow of sadness passes over her features, “I’ve never seen Armie this head-over-heels-in-love before save once, and that was with me. I can’t be the grown-up here, laying down the law, saying _you can't love him, you’re supposed to love me_. It doesn’t _need_ to be either/or”.

I meet her frankness with my own, “You won’t force him to choose - but what if he decides to choose anyway?”.

Her smile is brittle when she replies, “He won’t. Not if he understands what’s at stake. Not if you help me.”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing Elizabeth - but in the end, this is a love story - and so in the next chapters, I am looking forward to coming back to the boys, the town, the food, and the romance they build along the way.


	10. Tutto O Niente (All or Nothing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to just the boys - and sexual content, so caveat emptor.
> 
> _Our first night alone again - we go to dinner. I flirt so blatantly that I expect Armie to tell me to tone it down. I want to see how far I can push the envelope - what will he be comfortable with? What will he reject? Instead of caution, he devours each head tilt and every sidelong glance. I feel dangerous, reckless - no one knows who I am, but everyone recognizes il muvi star. Our feet tangle beneath the table. Dinner could take hours - the Italians appreciate food - but I hunger for so many other things right now, that the delicious meal and expensive wine almost feel like a form of torture._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! Sorry for the delay in posting - happy everything to those who celebrate. 
> 
> As ever - many thanks to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy for the read-through(s) (Beta to Omega - this one took a while to get right).

###  Armie

This morning, I carried Elizabeth and Harper’s bags down to the waiting van. The Wife was talking earnestly with Timmy; Harper grabbed at the curl over his eyebrow, then giggled and hid her face in her mother’s shoulder - even my one-year-old flirts with him. Tim nodded seriously, kissed Elizabeth, and patted Hops’ cheek before he left us to our goodbyes. 

When you live the gypsy life of an actor, there are many goodbyes - but this one was difficult for both of us. And yet - this was not an easy visit. Luca creates an environment of such intimacy - both on set and off - anyone outside of our cast and crew upsets the equilibrium. Even though it was difficult, we needed this time - both for our marriage and for my relationship with Timmy. 

 

_ Timmy.  _

 

I couldn’t stay away - not even for the duration of Elizabeth’s visit. Beyond that first night, which destroyed me, rebuilt me, and in the morning - knocked me down again, Timmy was a constant itch under my skin. I needed to see him, touch him - to know that he was still with me. I almost lost him. I could feel the ghost of that loss, like a phantom limb. Any time he wasn’t within arms reach, I missed him - which is, I realize, ridiculous. 

At night - I tossed and turned at my wife’s side. When she woke, I gave up and went to him. Elizabeth didn’t say a word, but I suspect she didn’t like it.  The second night, the Wife did her best to wear me out entirely - we haven’t fucked like that since before Harper was born. Still - 2 AM, she woke to use the bathroom - and I felt so restless that I left her to get some sleep while I roused Timmy with a blowjob. Later he came inside me and - even though I’d already come twice with Elizabeth - I shot all over his chest. Going from her to him - like Elio in the novel, in the earliest days with Oliver - there was no choice, there could be no choice between them.

* * *

The first night without Elizabeth, Timothèe and I go out to dinner - just the two of us. Talking comes easier now, and flirtation is possible, without limit. Dinner is filled with small touches, lingering glances. He is hesitant - as though he is unsure what is allowed. I want to tell him -  _ everything. Everything is allowed - there is nothing that I don’t want from you.  _ In so many ways, we have sailed past ‘I love you’.  Timmy’s hand rests against his neck - his foot finds mine beneath the table, then travels upwards, stroking my instep and ankle, trailing behind my calf. When he touches my inner thigh - gently, so gently - I am ready to throw him down on the table, damn the waitstaff.

Timmy can see - he has to know the effect he is having on me. (With his foot nestled between my legs, not to be immodest - but I don’t think he could miss it.) Still, he keeps on chatting, asking to see the dessert menu, licking the foam off of his espresso spoon.

We leave C----- and it is all I can do not to wrap his legs around my waist in some darkened alleyway. Instead, we walk home holding hands, trying to draw out the torture of wanting each other - in every way, all night - with no need to leave.

###  Timothèe

Elizabeth left this morning after extracting a promise from me that I would visit - maybe for the 4th, my schedule permitting. Planning for events after our work here is done makes me realize just how short a time we have left in Crema. I try not to think in terms of wasted hours and days - but I do. I also make a conscious decision to savour every moment - as you do when you are living on borrowed time. I want to flirt with Armie, to make love, sleep...I want to hoard every experience like a miser - to cover for the months of thin times. Unless - despite everything - it will end when filming ends?

Our first night alone again - we go to dinner. I flirt so blatantly that I expect Armie to tell me to tone it down. I want to see how far I can push the envelope - what will he be comfortable with? What will he reject? Instead of caution, he devours each head tilt and every sidelong glance. I feel dangerous, reckless - no one knows who I am, but everyone recognizes  _ il muvi star. _ Our feet tangle beneath the table. Dinner could take hours - the Italians appreciate food - but I hunger for so many other things right now, that the delicious meal and expensive wine almost feel like a form of torture.  _ I wonder if, with the proper motivation, Armie might be willing to speed things along? _

I slip off my shoe and run my toes over his. Then - slowly, but with firmness of purpose - I run my foot up over his calves and along the inseam of his jeans. All the while, I chat innocently about tomorrow’s schedule. I am about to give it up as a bad job, when I brush my toes across the evidence that Armie is definitely not ignoring me. 

“I’m sorry. You were saying?”, Armie swallows as a fine sheen of sweat covers his brow - but he doesn’t ask me to stop. 

I look up at Armie with a small, private smile -  _ this could be fun,  _ “Mmmm? Oh, I think I wanna see the dessert menu.”

He blinks as though he doesn’t understand. My foot still rests between his thighs - he presses against it when he leans forward to grab his wallet. I perform a complete 180-degree turn - 5 minutes ago, I couldn’t wait to leave; now, I want to draw the evening out - to tease Armie until he cannot think of anything else. I flex my toes in his lap. He groans quietly, “You’ll kill me…”

“If I stop? But I won’t stop”, I press and release again and again, until he looks like he might weep. Then I withdraw - he catches my foot and scores my arch with his thumbnail. The sensation travels straight to my groin and leaves me in no better condition than Armie.

Over espresso, we calm ourselves enough to walk home. In the darkened streets, Armie takes hold of my hand. It is a pleasant shock - we’ve never held hands before - and it feels as intimate as a passionate kiss and as comfortable as sleeping intertwined. When he lets go to dig out his keys, my hand feels colder than the summer night air, because it is deprived of his warmth. 

###  Armie

By tacit agreement, we stop outside of Timmy’s door. He struggles with the key because I am too busy mauling him to let him find the lock. I cannot wait one second longer. When the door opens we crash through the lounge - Timmy bounces on the couch like a rag doll and I follow him down. His head is on the arm, his leg is draped over the back of the Chesterfield sofa - I am trying to strip him naked without breaking our kiss. Timmy’s hands are everywhere - unbuttoning here, slipping between layers there, tugging me to him - pressing skin against skin. 

“Slow down, we don’t need to rush”, Timmy goes limp under me.

“Not tonight - not this time when I am  _ ravenous  _ for the taste of you”, I pull his hair back - exposing his neck. 

He watches me from beneath his ink-dark lashes - his expression at once provocative and serene, “I want you -  _ slowly _ \- we have all night”. 

How do I explain this to him? I am possessive, jealous, demanding… I want him with a ferocity fueled by the combined darkness of all my worst traits. Being in love intensifies everything until my need to lay claim to him makes me brutal. But, I cannot say it. Desire this bottomless and maddening is not...acceptable. It is too much for anyone to deal with. It’s terrifying.

I rein myself in and rearrange my face to grin playfully down at Timmy while I give his body a comprehensive glance, “No. Nope - sorry.  I need you under me immediately”.

I strip him, aiming for clinical efficiency, but my desperation reveals itself in strained seams and popped buttons, “Clothes off! Off!”. Timothèe frowns but seems as eager as I am for contact. He lets me press him back on the couch with my forearm as I kiss down his chest. I run my tongue along his cock; he takes the two fingers of my other hand into his mouth and sucks until they are wet enough to penetrate him and I do. 

But it isn’t close enough - I need to be inside him.

I release him with a filthy slurp, “Bedroom - now!”

He wraps legs around my torso; I carry him - his hips bounce against my cock as he moves against me deliberately. We lay down together on the bed, and my cock slides between his cheeks, “Wait - I can’t take you dry. Give me the…”, his mouth is on mine before I can complete the thought. It is just as well, I feel his long fingers snaking around my balls - cold with lube.

“Do it now!”, Timothèe moans against my ear. I press his legs up and guide myself into his body. He is gasping, twisting like a merman on dry land - I can barely breathe for wanting him. Timmy winces with the first breach but continues to pull me into him. It’s too much, too heady - I feel like it will all be over too soon, but am helpless to stop it. I am caught in the undertow of this desire to penetrate the inmost recesses of his body, his heart.  Our eyes lock, and any pretense at playfulness falls away. A final thrust pushes us both past the point of no return. My orgasm shatters me - I fall asleep in Timmy’s arms almost immediately, as if my body is trying to protect my mind from the knowledge of how deeply I have fallen. 

 

###  Timothèe

Impossible. He is asleep. 

We are sprawled in the sheets, Armie lays heavily on top of me. Our flirtation at dinner took on a darker edge when we got home. I wanted to slow everything - to file down the sharpness of desire and allow our jumbled emotions room to unfold. Armie looked like a man possessed. I could see the depth of his love and need, naked and shining in the half-light of my lounge, and I believed - in that moment - that we would find our way to each other. 

But as quickly as it came, so it went - I watched Armie shutter his face, give me a leading man smile and  _ joke _ about how badly he wanted me. I almost ended things right there, if he wants to play this for a laugh - then it is clear our needs are different. The only thing that kept me from calling a halt was  _ that moment.  _ Before the mask was in place - the needy, consumed man that I saw was no lie, even if he pretends otherwise. 

But why would he hide from me? Is he ashamed - of me? Us? He doesn’t want me to look at him and see his heart laid open.  _ I love you  _ \- those words have become his diversion to keep me away from the darker desires that he covers with good looks, humour,...even with his charm. 

I stroke his back and arms - as though I could probe the depths of the man through muscle and sinew. He is...afraid. Afraid of how desperately he needs, he is afraid to show it, afraid to give it to me, afraid that I can’t take it - or perhaps that I don’t want it. The knowledge of his fears break over me like a tidal wave - we have so little time, how can I show him that this isn’t fun and games, not for me? I think of the classical literature Michael urged me to read as character prep - Giordano Bruno -  _ Desire urges me on, as fear bridles me.  _ Slowly, my thoughts coalesce around a single idea and a length of twisted rope laying on my dresser.

_ Three hours later.  _

_ “ _ Armie? Armie - can you wake up for me?”

 

###  Armie

I wake in our bed and reach for Timmy only to find that my arms bound to the headboard in a two-column tie above my head. My body goes into adrenaline overdrive - an overwhelming fight-or-flight instinct that Timothèe responds to immediately.

“Shhhh. It’s OK. I have you now - everything is OK”, he strokes my face and chest as though I were a skittish colt in need of breaking.

“What the fuck is this about?”, I pull against the ropes even though I know at a glance that they were tied properly. 

“I thought you liked knots?”, Timmy smiles fatuously - laying his warm body against the length of my own sweaty one, “To quote another practitioner of ‘global rope culture’ I know, ‘At least part of you is very much on board’”. His hand passes over me; he is not wrong. I have gone from dead asleep to rock hard so quickly that the diverted blood flow left me dizzy. I realize my mouth is dry because I’m panting as though I just ran a mile sprint. 

“ _ What do you want? _ ”, he asks me. There are so many ways I could answer that question - it takes me three attempts to get my voice to work, and I choose the most mundane, “Water. Thirsty”. 

He takes a bottle, cold and slick with condensation, from the dresser in one hand and holds the back of my head up with the other while he pours the water into my mouth. Some spills down my neck and he leans in to lick away the icy rivulets and watches my reaction. Water pours on my chest; cold then the heat of his mouth. In short order, I am pulling on my bonds. I don’t know how to process what is happening to me. I am not sure I can even try while he is licking and biting my nipples - which, I discover - are insanely sensitive. I try to speak, but he just lays a finger over my lips and says, “Shhhh - not yet”. 

He sits up again, but stays connected through touch. He pulls another rope from my kit, “There is something I want to try, if you are amenable”, when I nod, he slides the short loop end of the rope around my neck and begins to lace me into a harness. He lies between my legs - holding the looped edge of the rope in his teeth as he wraps the harness further down my body - ending at my groin. The end is passed between my legs then forward again - Timmy cinches it tightly before tying it off. I can feel the press of the braided line against my skin, even rubbing between my legs. 

Timmy sits back, looking satisfied with his work. He straddles my hips and leans down to do something to the rope holding my arms. I capture his chest in my mouth and twist under him, refusing tacitly to submit. Timothèe frowns and jerks the tether to correct me. 

There is more play in the line now, so he yanks the harness to sit me up. If it’s possible, I get even harder. I’ve never done this with someone who could give as well as they get - and while Timmy is still smaller and slighter than me, all of those early mornings at the gym training with Gianluca have paid off - his muscles are lean, but he’s strong enough to manhandle me. The thought is intriguing...mouthwateringly sexy - and he required no assistance to turn me on before this discovery. 

_ “What do you want?” _ , he repeats - and this time I know he wants a different kind of answer. He reaches behind him, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it. “I’m going to release your arms, but I don’t want you to touch me unless I tell you to. Keep them at your side or behind your head - can you do that for me?”

I am barely able to agree - and so close to coming that my breathing speeds up. Timmy stops immediately, “No. Don’t come - not until I say”. 

No one has ever done this to me. I make a joke in response and reach for him but I see something like anger flash in his eyes as he throws me down on the bed and kneels over my arms - his cock is so close to my face, but he grabs my chin before I can taste it. 

“Is this a joke?”, Timmy’s voice is so...full when he says it that I am immediately ashamed of myself. 

“No - of course not”. 

“Good - it isn’t for me either. I’ve never been more serious”, he straps my arms back so that I am immobilized, “Don’t get me wrong - I appreciate your humor...but...not here”. 

I swallow nervously - I don’t know where this is going, but suddenly I am terrified that he is going to leave me. I try to find something - anything - to say, but instead of climbing off the bed, he slides down and takes me into his mouth. Again he brings me to the edge, and again he stops just short of completion and orders me,  _ “Control _

_ Yourself”.  _

He strokes my belly and kisses my chest while he waits for me to calm down. Again he asks, “ _ Armie, what is it you want?” _ . I say nothing - still pulling fruitlessly against my ropes - because what can I say to him that won’t send him running? Being at his mercy throws my Timothèe obsession into bas-relief - of course I hunger for all of his attention. Now it seems a horrific oversight that I didn’t understand how I would respond to being made to submit to someone I also crave on a molecular level. Elizabeth and I never had this - the bedroom was the one place in our lives where there was no question of my dominance. Another repetition - his beautiful mouth sliding up and down to meet his hand, but he can tell when I’m close and he lets my cock fall from his lips. There are tears in my eyes by the end, and they aren’t simply because he is driving me mad with desire. 

This time, he slides on top of me, holding my body closely, “I see you - all knotted up between fear and desire like Luca said. You are afraid to show me just how much you  _ want  _ \- maybe you think it will scare me off, but I am doing this to show you - there isn’t a  _ single thing  _ that I don’t want with you. We have so little time - you cannot hide - not behind humour, not behind your goddamn Prince Charming smile, not even behind your charm. I won’t allow it”. I can feel the tears spilling out of my eyes, into my hair. 

His mouth is centimetres from mine, I can feel his breath on my lips when he asks once more, “ _ What do you want?” _ , he works me with his hand. I thought I was such a good actor, but he has seen through me like a clean pane of glass. 

Chastened, I finally answer him, “Everything, Timothèe. My god,  _ everything _ . More than I can reasonably ask you for, I am so...I want you, in every way - I love you. I...I can’t. Nobody deserves this - and what I am asking isn’t even fair. I am jealous, possessive…..oh my god…”, again he withdraws his hand before I come. 

Timmy straddles me, clicking open the lube. He sits on my chest, I cannot touch him as he strokes himself - temporarily lost in the pleasure of his own hand. Jealous, I close my eyes, but Timmy snaps, “Look at me”, and I obey helplessly. My erection has not flagged for a moment since I realized I was bound by him. 

He brings himself close before taking a steadying breath and dropping his hand from his cock. Kneeling between my legs, he continues, “This. This is what you need, what you want - your heart and your body, too - you want me to belong to you? Then you must belong to me, too. You can’t have this with me any other way.  If we can’t be open with each other in here, we don’t stand a chance out there in the real world. I may be young - but even I know that. This has to be stronger to make up for all the times it will be invisible”. 

Timmy dips between my legs, instead of taking my cock he slides his tongue lower. I fight against my instinct to struggle - the sensation of his kiss opening me blinds me with immense pleasure. No one has ever done this to me before and I feel lost and worshipped simultaneously. I am so close to orgasm that I can see it shimmering, I lose my self-control entirely and beg, “Yes! My god - fuck….fuck me, Timmy - please? Turn me inside out. Fuck!”. Timmy looks completely debauched when he turns me over - my forearms are still bound together and tied to the headboard, while my feet plant on the floor. Timothèe slicks himself and enters my body. Instead of fucking me, he grabs me by the harness and yanks me back until I’m impaled on his cock. He controls every motion of our bodies and I abandon myself to him. 

_ You  _ _ will _ _ kill me if you stop - so never stop, never tell me I can’t have you, can’t have this. There is no border between us here - when every cell of my body is calling your name. I understand. I understand now.  _

The rope binding my arms goes slack; I brace myself on the mattress as he pumps into me. I can feel my balls chafing against the cord and then relief when Timothèe’s hand reaches around to close around my prick. I push back into his body with greater force, feeling our trembling muscles stiffen to hold back the tidal wave of orgasm that rolls through us together. I sob with the strength of it and collapse on the bed.

Timmy gathers himself when he sees my tears, “oh my god - did I hurt you?” He releases the harness quickly and looks me over for damage - but I only reach out my arms to hold him and to be held. He burrows into my shoulder - his eyes are shining with unshed tears. 

I kiss his forehead and hold him close, “You really want me like this? Timmy, I am such a wreck”.

“I do. I’ll keep you anyway - as long as you are real with me...even if you, me, and Elizabeth are the only people on earth who know...I’d keep you still”.

“I can’t swear I won’t fuck up, but I promise I will try - even when it scares me...especially when it scares me…you are worth it”. 

He looks deeply into my eyes, with a beatific smile that captivates me, “Then start by believing me when I tell you that I want  _ everything  _ with you, too? Don’t make me have to tie you down to get you to listen”.

“Um - you do realize after tonight that that is not exactly a threat, right?”, we both laugh. “...And you are so  _ good _ at it - you are full of surprises.  Where did you learn to tie that harness?”

Timmy bites his swollen lips and smiles, “Uh - while you were sleeping...I did a bit of research on YouTube?”.

 


	11. Orto Del Desiderio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luca notices something is changed. A happy interlude with the boys - Armie takes Timmy for a romantic evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - Sorry for the long break between chapters. Holidays and the exceedingly snowy weather has left me with barely a minute to write. As always - thank you for the kudos and comments - I love interacting with everyone and talking about the boys, the story, Italian, - anything really.  
> As always - cheers to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy, beta extraordinaire - for un-blocking, continuity, and generally being excellent. :)

###  Luca

We return to shooting on Monday - but something has changed between my two leading men. They are more attuned to each other - intense but assured. I wonder if Armie’s wife - for all her purported acceptance - caused tension between them? My second thought - I admit - is base. They spent the weekend after Elizabeth departed making love, nonstop. I voyeuristically gaze upon them - there are small touches, longer looks.  Timothèe exercises an almost casual authority over Armie. While Armie - when he is near to Timothèe - he carries light within himself, like the ecstatic saints of the Reformation. 

I see it in the makeup trailer but also when my camera begins to roll. The scene we are going to shoot after lunch is Elio stealing the swimming trunks of Oliver, and pleasuring himself on Oliver’s bed. In the morning, the boys confer in a corner - Timothèe has the red shorts in his hand, Armie is blushing. He casts a furtive glance over the assembled company; I hide behind my script. Then he slips out of his clothes and into the swimming trunks which we are to use for the scene. 

The red swimming trunks find their way back into the prop mistresses hands by lunchtime. I look for Timothèe to review some of the blocking as we eat, but cannot find him or Armie. 

“Michael, where are the boys - have you seen them?”

Michael pauses to consider before replying, “Luca - truthfully, I have seen very little of Tim and Armie since they declared a truce over The Boxer’s arm”.

Michael looks over the tops of his glasses at me - a ‘significant’ look that is _so_  completely in character, I stop for a moment to congratulate myself on his casting. I wonder if he, too, has seen and understood the looks that pass between the boys. He certainly has taken a paternal role with Timothèe both on- and off-set. Timmy, for his part, has been in awe of Michael since he saw him in _ The Pillowman _ at the tender age of 12.

I slip from the table, on instinct I climb the stairs to the Perlman’s bedroom. (I assume, even in an extreme of lust, they would not tempt fate with the set dressers and disrupt Oliver’s room.) I can hear them - the door does not completely close - together on the bed. Armie is on his back - shirt and (I assume) pants open - Timothèe is naked, save for the sheet covering his hips. He rides Armie astride - Armie’s hand locks around Timmy’s neck. He wants to pull Timothèe down into his arms, but he hesitates. After a moment, Timothèe speaks and I return to reality.  There is a line, drawn by intent or sophistication, between a voyeur and a ‘peeping tom’. If I remain - I am crossing to the wrong side of it. So, I continue down the hallway to the back stairs. After a moment to collect myself, I walk noisily back towards the bedrooms - starting in ‘Oliver’s’ room and calling for the boys. 

###  Timothèe 

Our honeymoon feeling carries into the work week. It is fortunate that we are shooting roughly in sequence, because if we had to film love scenes today - it would be nearly impossible to prevent the knowing way we navigate each other’s body from ruining the awkward hesitancy of Elio and Oliver’s first time. On the other hand, I make my Oliver indulge me for a little method acting. Today we are filming the scene where Elio slips on Oliver’s red swimsuit and writhes on his bed. The scrupulously clean swim trunks in question are sitting on the prop bench. I steal them and make Armie wear them for an hour or so - so that his scent will really permeate the fabric. 

Armie is so... _ Oliver _ today. A movie star, through and through. I feel like the entire production should shut down so as to better admire him.  It seems incredible that I am the reason he looks lit up from the inside. Even a half-smile from him is enough to drive me mad with lust. I barely make it to lunch before I drag Armie off to a dark corner of the Villa. 

Armie leans back on the bed as though we have all afternoon, and says “In your movie parents bedroom? What do you suppose Freud would have to say about that?”.

“Um - Freud would recognize that the choice was motivated by a healthy value placed on our lives. Unless you want to flirt with utter destruction and mess up the preset in  _ our  _ movie bedroom?”, I reply. 

There is a lot of quick undressing - we don’t have time to make love slowly, the way I want - so I take what I can get. I throw off my clothes, unbutton his - and straddle his lap, rubbing myself against him. 

In my peripheral vision, I catch a movement in the hall.  _ Luca?  _ He neither stops nor moves along the corridor;  _ is he watching us? _  I make a split second decision, driven by the demon of possessiveness. I order Armie, “Touch me! I want you to touch me...”, If Luca questions what is between us, then perhaps it is easier to just let him see.

I pant into Armie’s neck, “You are so beautiful - you have  _ no idea _ what you do to me…”.

Armie replies, “I think I have some idea…because the feeling is mutual”, he moves my hand to cup him, “...just knowing you can smell and taste me on those swim trunks - my god, Timmy!”.

He wraps his hand around my throat - I can tell he wants to pull me down to kiss me, but I hesitate. I should control myself and save some of this pent-up lust for the scene this afternoon. Armie, on the other hand….

I reach down, threading my fingers through his hair and yank Armie into a sitting position. Ever since our first ‘rehearsal’ kiss, I’ve noticed that hair-pulling lights the fast-burning fuse on his desire. After last weekend, I understand why a bit better. I take advantage of the pause to slip off the bed - turning Armie towards me as I kneel, naked, before him and pull his shorts to the floor.  I push him back a little, so he is supporting his torso on his elbows and wrap my fingers around the base of his cock. I can feel his breathing pick up. I look up at him through my lashes and lick my lips - then extend my tongue to touch the tip. After a moment’s teasing, I take him fully into my mouth. I want to record the sounds he makes. I have improved my skill at handling his size considerably in the past weeks, and can now take him far enough in to swallow around him. His hand rests under my chin to feel himself in my throat. 

“Timmy - I...ohhhhhhh - you miracle”, Armie starts tensing his muscles to thrust and I work him harder, moaning and letting him feel the vibrations, “Timmy - Coming!”, he whispers urgently. He tries to withdraw, but I won’t let him - locking my arm around his hips and taking him into myself. He stares into my eyes as he comes, and comes - babbling nonsense about love, and God, and me.

When he finishes - he slides to the floor, knees on either side of me - and wraps me in his arms. We stay cuddled for a moment - but before he can reach between us to return the favour, we hear Luca calling our names down the hallway. I gesture with my finger against my lips for silence, then slip away to redress while Armie quickly buttons up and responds to Luca.

 

###  Armie

I wonder if Luca has a sixth sense that activates whenever I’m getting head? I want to comment to our director about his less-than-impeccable sense of timing, but one look at the man lets me know that _today will not be_ _that day_. When Luca rounds the corner into the Perlman’s bedroom, he looks exasperated. It’s not a completely foreign expression - I just hope I am not it’s cause.  I wonder what I missed this morning, while I was so lost in a haze of lust and endorphins. I couldn’t even tell you with any degree of certainty who else was on set today - for me, everything was Timmy.

“Armie - where is your leading man? Where is Timothèe? I’ve been looking for him all over”. 

I blink - and hope Luca doesn’t notice that I’ve buttoned my shirt incorrectly, “Ah, right now? I don’t know. Did you check Oliver’s bedroom?”, I ask disingenuously.

Luca looks at me with one eyebrow raised, then glances pointedly at my shirt, “You have no idea? Hm”

“I can look for him if you…”.

“No”, he says sharply, “So - was Elizabeth’s departure smooth?”

The change of topic caught me off guard, “Elizabeth?”.

“Yes - Elizabeth,  _ tua moglie _ . Surely you have not forgotten about her?”, Luca’s manner is aggressive and peremptory. Before I can formulate a response beyond, ‘ _ Yeah - she’s back home’,  _ Luca turns on me and narrows his eyes. I feel like a schoolboy, caught out by the headmaster without quite knowing which indiscretion I’m about to catch hell for.

“Armie, you are navigating unexplored waters. I wish to guide you - and not only when you are on camera. I want, very much, for you to be happy,  _ Tesoro _ ...and I think, yes… this relationship you have with Timothèe… It does make you happy in a way you have never been before”. 

Tears begin to collect in my eyes, Luca is the only one - outside of the trio of Timmy, Elizabeth, and myself - who acknowledges our relationship. Hearing someone speak of it aloud makes it all seem more real, tangible. 

“I am. Happy, that is. Timmy...he’s nothing I was looking for and everything I needed”.

Luca muses, almost to himself, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”.

“What about our sensual Italian summer?”.

“Armie -  _ caro mio - _ seasons change.”

 

###  Luca

We are able to shoot the red swim trunks scene with almost unseemly haste. I clear the set of ‘observers’ - both to speed shooting and for the benefit of my actor - but I notice that Armie stays. Timothèe slides easily into character and - although the scene is one that might make even a seasoned actor uncomfortable - there is almost a profligate innocence to his portrayal. 

I give him very little direction or blocking for the first take. As Elio, Timothèe examines the swim trunks, places them over his head and backs into the instinctual position, but then our Elio surprises me - he draws his hips in and presses forward as though it were Oliver spread under him. At the end of this gesture, Timmy pulls the trunks from his head and catches my eye - just for a second - as though acknowledging a secret between us. In that glance, there is something hardened - something that is all Timothèe , not Elio - and I wonder if he knew I stood outside the door just a scant hour ago. I reset the shot, “Timmy - excellent - at the end of the shot, look to the window - that is where you will hear Oliver returning”. Timothèe locks eyes with me again, then nods, “ _ Oui, Luca!”. _

We use three takes to capture it all - but it is mostly for lighting issues, as the weather continues to plague our shoot. Sayombhu is a miracle worker. 

Armie radiates impatience, though he tries to stay in the background. The moment the shoot ends, he slides over to Timothèe and ruffles his hair, praising the scene we just shot. The rain won’t let up this afternoon so we don’t shoot the part of the scene at the window.  I dismiss everyone early and see Armie conferring very seriously with Timmy.  

 

###  Armie

The day ended early, yet it feels like an eternity since I was alone with Timmy.  I compliment his work in the swim trunk scene by petting his hair, but what I want to do is slide to my knees and finish him. I can see that imagining that scenario has made him hard and it makes my mouth water. 

If my life contained another circumstance of such protracted longing, I have blocked it out. I never imagined desire this constant, confusing, complete. I love him - and, impossibly for one so young - he makes me feel seen, cherished, and safe. I know he would be happy if we biked home and fell back into bed without prologue - but I am overwhelmed by the urge to do something disgustingly romantic for him if only to vent some of the feelings that flood over me when he acknowledges me in any slight way. 

When he heads for the trailer to change back into street clothes, I follow him. The second the door closes, he pushes me against it - kissing me hard. 

“Wait, wait, wait a second….Timmy!”

“Why, why, why?”, he murmurs against my throat - and it’s difficult to remember ‘why’ in the moment, but I persevere, “I want you to do something for me”.

Timmy steps back, looking like a debauched faun, and smiles wickedly, “Anything….”, he starts sliding to his knees and I almost let him.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but….no”.

“No?”, he asks incredulously.

“OK - how about ‘not yet’?”

“You mean ‘later’, like Oliver? I’m done with the Method Acting portion of today’s proceedings. I want  _ you _ , Armie”, he catches my lips again and I lose time just kissing him.

“Wait”, I mutter and Timmy gasps an exasperated, short sigh, “Timmy, I have plans for you”. He nods in agreement and tries to move in to kiss me again, “...for  _ tonight.  _ So behave yourself”, I continue - pushing him back, “This is what I want: go home, shower - change, whatever...then meet me back here at 8 PM”. 

“The house will be locked”. 

I grin, “I have a key - but meet me by the pool out back?”. 

“OK. Why don’t you come back with me?”

“You want me to ruin the surprise? Just do as I tell you, I promise you won’t regret a thing”, I smile at Timmy, teasing him.

“I never have - not where you are concerned...not really”, Timmy looks so serious for a moment, but then he smiles up at me and I remind myself ‘later’ - or I would be pushing him up against the makeup table. 

Fortunately, a knock on the door ends our metaphorical wrestling match and we both return to stripping off costumes and packing up silently. Timmy is ready before me; he looks up with an innocent grin and calls, “Hey Armie? ‘Later!”.

 

###  Timothèe 

I clatter into my apartment and can immediately tell that Giulia has been in - my coffee table has neat stacks of magazines, and a mirrored tray with a vase of flowers, a low candle in a ceramic dish….and lube. I bang my head against the wall. I hope to hell we straightened the bedroom. She will never come back if she finds the ropes and Armie's handcuffs.

No sign of Armie's 'kit' - he must have packed it away. The sheets are new, but I can still smell Armie on his pillow. What is he planning tonight? I check the time - 6:15 PM. 

I stretch out on the clean sheets and think of Armie: his embarrassed-but-flattered grin when I asked him to wear the swim trunks…his hungry eyes on me while I filmed the sequence with them...his face, wiped clean of all falsity, open-mouthed and delirious when he came in down my throat that afternoon. I settle on my back and open my jeans, imagining the swim trunk’s mesh lining pressing against my lower lip. I remember Armie’s breath catching when I allowed the trunks to drop from my head and thrust down into the mattress.

My phone lights up - 6:27 PM now. I flip over in frustration and grab the lube off the nightstand. I pour a large amount into my palm, letting it drip down my cock before I touch myself, varying my strokes to prolong this pleasure. I run my left hand down over my chest, and slide it behind my balls - slowly circling until my body begins to open and I can slide inside. I let the pressure build - thinking about later tonight when, surely, Armie will be doing this to me - some preparation will make it happen that much faster. Imagining Armie inside me takes me over the edge. My phone pings not even a minute later - at 6:49... It’s a text from Armie. 

_ Are you thinking about tonight? -A _

_ About you, always.  _ I reply truthfully while I strip off the rest of my clothes to shower. 

_ Well. Don’t wear yourself out - I’ve got plans. -A _

I type, “ _ I’m 19 and you are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on - I don’t think that will be an issue”   _ but I decide not to send it. Instead, just “ _ I won’t” _

I clean up the bed and head into the shower, checking my phone one last time as I do. _7 PM! Yes!_ Less than an hour to go. 

* * *

Showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, I spend 15 minutes fussing with my hair before realizing that the bike ride to the Villa will likely mess it up anyway. It takes 15 minutes to ride there, I give myself 20, just to burn extra time - 7:37 PM now.

The house looks eerie in the moonlight. Though it rained earlier, the ground is fairly dry now and the weather warm. I can hear the night chorus of insects still momentarily as I approach, the gravel drive crunching under my tires. 7:55 PM - not too early?  

My stomach ties itself in knots when I see Armie emerge from the moonlit arbour. He is wearing a white, buttoned shirt that practically glows with crisply rolled-back sleeves and tailored dark pants. His hair is slicked away from his face - like a film star in the 1930’s. He is clean shaven and so handsome that, for a moment, I lose all power of speech. 

So much beauty,...but it is the aching, wondering love in his expression that impels me forward. Armie exposes the inner tracings of his heart to me - his mouth soft and barely open, his eyes illuminated and so full of adoration - he looks mesmerized by what he sees, and what he sees is me, staring in slack-jawed awe of him. 

_My God, I love you, Armie -_ the thought slips past the censors in my mind. My heart hammers as the full weight of the realization hits me. _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._  This isn’t the butterflies of my initial crush, nor is it the kind of love and friendship we were granted just by the luck of the universe from the day we met. I can barely breathe; I am drowning in love with him. 

After a beat, he approaches me - gripping my biceps - and bends to gently kiss me. He takes my hand and leads me through the house to the dining room. There are two glasses set next to each other, and a bottle of champagne in a cooler. I have to force speech to come if only to say a pitifully inadequate,”This is amazing!”, I finger the stem of the glass. 

Armie grins, “You haven’t seen the best part - come with me. Bring that”, he indicates the champagne bucket and he picks up our glasses.

I follow him into the yard where the improvised pool and fountain burbles and see a path lit with candles leading to the orchard. There, in the grass beneath our peach trees, lies a large, thick blanket and some cushions - a low table at the edge of the blanket has fruit, cheese, and bread - laid out elegantly. The blanket is surrounded by flickering candles that cast the scene in a warm glow. I add the champagne to this tableau, kneeling before the table, and look up at an uncharacteristically nervous, shy Armie. 

“I don’t know what to say”, my voice catches in my throat, thick with unshed tears.

Armie sits next to me, pouring champagne into our glasses, “How about that you are hungry?”.

Ironically, hungry is the absolute last thing I am - but I nod to please him. Armie moves our cushions closer and says, “Here, try this”.    
He feeds me a bite of cheese drizzled with honey, by hand. I lick the honey off of his fingers, sucking his thumb into my mouth. We drink champagne and I curl closer to his body, tracing the opening of his shirt with my fingers, unfastening another button so I can nuzzle into the part of his neck where the scent of him is strongest. 

“The only way I’m going to get you to eat is if I hand feed you, isn’t it?”, Armie asks me playfully, slipping another morsel between my lips. 

I try to follow his playful vein, “I can’t help it….distracted. Besides, if I have to choose between a matinee idol and dinner, I know without hesitation where my mouth would be better occupied”.

“Any matinee idol?”

“No, only matinee idols who set up beautiful, romantic picnics for me….”

“Hmmm. So any matinee idol with sense?”, Armie replies.

“One, in particular, comes to mind…”, Armie reclines on his cushion and I follow him down, “I am so…”, here I try to voice these new, unfamiliar feelings, but I can’t do it! I can’t! It’s too raw and overwhelming - and there is no coming back from them. I try, and fail, to pronounce  _ those  _ words - and so I attempt to recover by saying, “I am so...in awe of you. I know I must seem….backwards and inexperienced. I’d never think of making a grand gesture like this one - I wouldn’t even know how to pull this off”.

 

###  Armie

My heart squeezed tightly in my chest. I thought...just for a moment...I thought Timmy was going to say that he loved me. 

He didn’t. 

I know he cares deeply about me - I wonder if that caring could ever become romantic love? I try to empathize with his position - instead of feeling unworthy - with little success. The words mean more to me than they should. I recognize that I am being selfish, and not a little insecure - forever needing greater proofs of what we share. Still, I cannot conceive of a world where this man - who has the talent to be the greatest actor of his generation - would choose me. 

I retreat into more playful banter - but then I remember the conversation between Luca and me, earlier this evening:

> _ “Armie - I have asked a lot from you - perhaps you will look back one day and say I asked too much - but it is plain to me that you have an immense capacity for love.  Much of your life, you forced yourself to only walk….traditional paths. I am not saying those paths are entirely wrong for you - I only suggest that, this summer, you have discovered that there is more, with Timothèe. If I am right - if you truly do feel love for him, not just transient passion - you must tell him. You owe it - to Timothèe and to yourself to be true to your emotions - even if they frighten you. You will have to be discreet - but you cannot ignore who you are any longer. And this IS who you are, Caro”. _

Luca was right. I cannot ignore it anymore, nor can I pretend to control the outcome of our time in Crema. Things will change.  _ I have changed. _

* * *

  
“I know I must seem….backwards and inexperienced. I’d never think of making a grand gesture like this one - I wouldn’t even know how to pull this off”, Timmy shakes his head in self-deprecation.

“That comes with time, Timmy. Anyway - I’ve learned the art of the grand gesture. I had to - I put my foot in it constantly”, I kneel up next to Timmy and take his hands in mine, “But...this isn’t that kind of grand gesture. It’s just...after last weekend... No one has ever given me what you gave me - completely and unselfishly - and I knew it was  _ for me _ \- it has nothing to do with The Hammer Family or the movies I’ve been in or even...y’know...the way I look. You care just because it’s me. You thought that was enough”.

“It  _ is _ enough”, Timmy holds my gaze, a desperate look in his eyes. He struggles to say something more, “It’s enough because you’re you. It’s enough because...fuck...because I am so in love with you, Armie….so in love”. 

I don’t know who moved first, or what I said in response. All I know is that I am kissing him and he is kissing me back with utter abandon - like falling off a cliff and flying instead of falling...I roll on top and pin him with my hips. “Is this how you want me?”, I ask.

Timmy presses against me, “I want to feel you inside me”, I nod and continue to kiss him - my mouth hot against his neck. We undress slowly, breathlessly worshipping each new section of uncovered skin. We never stop kissing - languorous kisses that taste of champagne and honey and smell like the peaches hanging above us and Timothèe’s cologne - a mix of mandarin, green wood, and amber that sinks so deeply into his skin. 

“I made myself ready for you - please?”, Timmy whispers a bit brokenly.

I prop myself up on my forearms and guide myself slowly into his body. I wait as he adjusts and then push in further. When we are as close as two humans can be, Timmy cries out. I start to move inside him, lifting his legs around my waist and pressing my abdomen against his for the friction on his cock. Our tempo is slow, rapturous. Timmy continues to hold my gaze. Soon he is whispering to me - “I love you” - over and over - in English, in French. I say it too, I must. The entire orchard pulses with building energy - satyrs in a pagan ritual, naked and joined together under the stars. Timmy is a living Caravaggio - flushed skin caught in the chiaroscuro of moonlight. We come to the edge and back away once, twice...then something within Timmy ignites and, as we approach orgasm for the third time, he fists my hair and pants urgently against my lips, “Armie...my love...GO!”.  He tightens around me and, with a cry, I come at his command. 

We lie fused together until it is too cold to remain. I clean Timmy reverently, then myself and pull over a second blanket. Timmy hops up, retrieving champagne and the cheese board, covered in a glass cloche.

“Do I recall an offer to hand feed me, like a mad Roman emperor?”, he says with a grin.

“Of course, Your Majesty, what do you require?”. 

Timmy leans back on to the pillows, pulling the blanket around his hips, “Give me a pistachio - and it’s ‘ _Ave Caesar_ ’ - if you wanna take this thing seriously, by the way”. 

“I should quote my line - ‘Is there anything you don’t know’ - but you are so modest, you would probably give me Elio’s line in response”, I stretch out next to him on my side, with my head propped on my hand.

Timmy giggles, then cuddles closer to my chest, "Unlike Elio - with regard to things that matter - I have a good teacher". He kisses me again, and I return it wholeheartedly.

"And I would say the same. But maybe that is how love is supposed to work?"

"Maybe."

 


	12. Statemi Vicino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy prepare to film their first love scene - but what can prepare them for the personal impact of showing their passion to the camera and the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the lengthy breaks between updates. This story, to me, has come to be a romance, a comedy, a tragedy - and everything in between. As such, it has been a struggle to write - I wanted to give you happy fluff, I swear!! :) But - as my wise and essential beta reader (Posh-boy-Clever-Boy) observed - given who I am, there was no way for me to write this without trying to portray the reality of these impossible situations. I don't claim to know what happened in Crema, but I do know that falling in love is fraught with challenges, watching someone you love fall in love with someone else is unimaginably painful, and coming to terms with something new that you learn about yourself can be revelatory, amazing, and miserable - all in the same instant. I've tried to bring some of that to the storyline - and from your amazing comments and kudos, perhaps I succeeded, just a little?  
> Thank you a million times over for keeping up the dialogue as I slooooooooowly churn out new chapters - I hope you all enjoy the rest of their journey (and the amazing Charmie coverage as the real boys take Europe). Grazie Mille! And please come visit me on Tumblr, too!   
> <https://cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com/>

###  Timothèe 

Tomorrow is the first time we will be shooting a kissing scene between Elio and Oliver - the Monet’s Berm sequence - although I suppose we have lost Monet. In some ways, the intimacy between Armie and me should make this easier. Luca has already come down very strongly in favour of real kissing - no aesthetic arrangement of lips and jawlines will cut it in a Guadagnino film. Still - to be this vulnerable and open before the camera’s eye….and to make sure that we remain true to Elio and Oliver - when as Timmy and Armie, we know each other’s kiss in a thousand different permutations - I experience my first real case of nerves on the shoot. 

Luca, as per usual, doesn’t stand on any ceremony - whether we are shooting biking scenes or masturbation - he’s very even-keeled. That helps. But - as we run lines the night before in Armie’s apartment - tension is also running high. Armie notices.

“Timmy - what’s wrong? I can’t believe you are nervous to kiss me - I mean, you remember Monday night, right?”.  We are lying at opposite ends of the sofa and Armie touches my feet with his feet.

I stretch out and smile, “Monday night? Did something special happen Monday night? Maybe you need to refresh my memory”, I reach across the distance separating us and bounce on top of him. 

Armie gathers me up, but instead of following in my decidedly carnal vein, he asks again, “I’m serious. What’s wrong?”.

I sigh, staring at his chest, “I’ve never really done this before. When I did scene work at LaGuardia - it was always, ‘Be polite - in most scenarios, you do not actually swap spit - think of the aesthetics, be solicitous of your scene partner and make sure she’s comfortable’..”

Armie snorts expressively, “ _ She  _ is entirely comfortable with you doing whatever you want to do. And you know Luca won’t want us to fake it - that’s not how he operates. Is the idea of kissing me in front of other people so scary?”, Armie has a touch of nerves in his voice.

“No, no, no.  No. It isn’t. If the circumstances between us were a bit different, I would open the 11 o’clock news by devouring your lips”, I grab his chin to demonstrate.

“But not the 6 o’clock news?”, Armie teases.

“No - I wouldn’t want to keep it PG”, I reply.

After another interlude of kissing, Armie continues, “So what is the problem?”.

I sigh - of course he wasn’t going to let it go. I should know by now - I can distract Armie, just not permanently, “I dunno.  I just feel like…to play Elio honestly, I’ve brought so much of myself into it. So how can I kiss you as though I don’t know the tension in your lips and what it feels like when it goes slack?”, we kiss again - slowly. Armie’s mouth is gorgeously relaxed and open. I run my tongue over his sharp eye-tooth and luxuriate in his indrawn breath. Still, I can’t stop my mind from rushing on with a cascade of worry.  _  I feel like I’ve known you all of my life. I don’t know how to keep that knowledge out of the cut...but still show how much I want you. _

After a moment, Armie asks, “Timmy? T - where are you right now?”.

I collapse down on his chest, “ _ THINKING _ ….God. When I’m acting - I can’t  _ think.  _ If I’m in my head, it will look wrong - it will BE wrong”, I burrow into his shoulder, feeling ashamed. I am not good enough to rise to this challenge. 

Armie raises my face to his, “You know...when we are performing together, I have this...it’s almost a moment of panic because I watch as the man I eat breakfast with in the morning and make love to at night - he just washes through you and slips away. It’s incredible. You  _ are _ Elio when we are in front of the camera. Elio/You is wise in ways that Timmy isn’t, and naive in strange ways, too”. 

“You think I won’t fuck it up?”, I ask nervously.

“I know you won’t”, Armie meets my eyes without a second of hesitation, “Look, Timmy - if you are open to it, I have an idea on something that might help, too. Tomorrow morning, before we go to set - let’s do the Monument Scene. We will run through the dialogue, full performance...and use it to get into character. Do you think having extra time to just sit with Elio’s emotions will help set you up?”.

I smile, “I do. It might also help if I work out some of this….excess of emotion….between us right now”.

“You really are just a horny teenager”, Armie pulls me on top of himself so I can feel his erection pressing against his zip. 

“Then what is your excuse?”, I slip the button on his jeans and slide my hand inside.

“I’m happy”, Armie sighs against my neck and it gives me goosebumps. His hands encircle my wrists like a bracelet. He pins them behind me and flips me underneath him on the couch. 

“Me too…I am happy, too”, I look into his eyes, my entire spirit yielding in submission to him. 

“Well, you are certainly about to be…”, Armie counters lasciviously. And for the rest of the night, I do not worry or even think once about Monet’s Berm. 

###  Armie

The next morning is promising for two reasons: first, we wake to slices of bright sunshine creeping across our bed. At least the next several hours promise to be rain-free - I issue a small prayer of thanksgiving on behalf of Sayombhu. Second, the next sensation after warm sunshine on my cheek is a hot, wet tongue on my cock, which immediately issues a prayer of thanksgiving all its own. Timmy has realized that I am not a morning person - and has done his typical exceptional best to remedy that situation. I stop him with my hands in his curls and he pops off panting and shiny-lipped. 

“Turn the other way”, I guide his hips to the top of the bed and his head back between my legs. We haven’t done this before - and I have observed that novelty is one of Timmy’s ironclad turn-ons, just like sucking his cock is one of mine. 

With a growl, I pull his hips down so I can take more of him in my mouth. Every press and stroke of his tongue on my cock, I mirror on his. I can tell he notices because he begins wavering between doing things he knows I like and other things that I know set him off. We are both roaring towards completion in short order - this 360-degree circuit of sex arouses us to new heights. He thrusts shallowly into my mouth as he comes. To bring me off with him, he slips a spit-slicked finger into me and I explode against his tongue as he pulls off and finishes me with his hands - my come hits his chin and rolls down his chest. 

We both lay back, panting. I grab my phone to take a picture of Timmy - his eyes widen. 

“Don’t worry - I’ll get close enough that no one can tell who it is”.

“I can’t swallow before breakfast”, Timmy runs his fingers over his chest. 

“I don’t mind”, I reply.  _ I love marking you like this.  _

“Give me your t-shirt. Let’s get into character”, Timmy grins and I’ve already decided that he shall keep whichever t-shirt he grabs to clean us up. 

* * *

Since we began the day with Timmy’s suggestion that we burn off some of the excess sexual energy between us, we continue with my suggestion of using the War Memorial scene to get into character after breakfast. When we arrive on set, we are already primed to be Elio and Oliver. We don’t speak while we are in hair and makeup. When we emerge on the set, we bike around to warm up - racing each other down country lanes and shouting the names of our characters. When the AD finally calls us to order (and hair-and-makeup tsk tsk as they patch us up), Elio sidles over to me and stage whispers, “Andiamo, Americano!”.

The first scenes are okay - Luca shoots from underneath - both to convey Elio’s admiration and to continue the parallel to Greek statuary (which I think is a little overwrought - but I am never going to argue with James  _ friggin’  _ Ivory). Timmy seems a little stilted; I can’t tell if it’s a character choice. He moves into me after a moment of visible contemplation right before my line, “you are making things very difficult for me”. Instead of simply standing and confronting him, I walk past Elio, bumping his shoulder - just as Timmy did to me the night I told him that I loved him. Timmy catches it immediately and I feel something unwind in him. He reaches out with his long arms and tags me - play boxing as we sometimes do. My smile is real when he gives up swatting and jumps entirely on my back and nearly takes both of us down into the drink. Timmy knows I can hold him. 

* * *

Luca looks pleased and...fond…when he calls cut. They start setting up for the kissing scene. I can literally feel my stomach tightening. This is where I must be delicate, show restraint. This is where I touch him and kiss him for an audience. This is where Timmy/Elio is going to grab my cock through the tiniest, whitest shorts imaginable and I’m going to need to act ardent and yet try to keep it professional. Fair to say that my cock has a mind of its own regarding interactions with Timothèe. I have no idea how to maintain my chill.

Luca clears the shoot of most of the non-essential staff, to keep distractions minimal and calls us over to explain the shot.

“We begin at the top of the frame, stay on your backs - then Armie, you are nervous but excited to say ’us’ to Elio...it feels forbidden. Your momentum to roll up and touch him comes from Elio pretending it means nothing. To you, it means  _ everything _ . You are compelled to touch - his beauty compels you, like the statues. 

Timmy - move into Oliver when he finally turns your face towards him, yes? You do not move until he grants this permission, but then - you are brave. You reach through the barriers with your kiss, eh? Timothèe - your angles, your body is like an arrow being drawn back in the bow, very ingenue,  _ capisci _ ? Armie - use the momentum of each other to drive the next move. Great.  _ Allora _ \- we begin”.

_ Sure - easy. Lay down - roll up - kiss your boyfriend...Jesus. _

I sit under the tree. Soon, Timmy joins me and asks, “You okay?”.

“Fine. You ready? OK - great!”, I sound over-enthusiastic and just wrong. I lay back so quickly that I bang my head.

“Take it easy!”, Timmy looks concerned.

“Right. Sorry - I just need to prepare”, I close my eyes.

We run the first half of the scene a few times, in each take Timmy surprises with a different inflection or a slight shift in timing. Then, I roll up on to my side and reach out to touch him. His eyes are closed, his tongue wraps around my finger in a way that shoots directly to my groin.

“Cut! Reset from the top! Timmy -  _ vieni qua _ ”, Luca shouts.

Someone hands me a bottle of water. I try to collect myself but still eavesdrop on Luca with Timmy.

“Timothèe -  _ bellisimo  _ \- you have it, but a little less... _ certainty _ about what you do with your tongue, perhaps?”, Luca suggests.

Timmy smiles and nods, with just the slightest of blushes - and I think to myself  _ Luca, my friend, you do not even know the half of it. _

We reset the scene and begin again. This time, Luca stops us just as we start to kiss, “A little less direct - stretch out the beat before you kiss, boys.  _ Daccapo!”. _

On the next take, I’ve barely sat up when Luca calls cut, “Armie, your angles - this is still a film”. I am supposed to be showing passion restrained, but with each reset - my anxiety and anger grow. Timmy still looks completely relaxed on the tenth take.

“Take it from the top. Armie - no smile there - the smile is the lie, here you have stopped lying”, Luca bites out with impatience, I move from annoyed to furious.  _ Show passion...show restraint...hesitate - why do you hesitate? Lovely work, Timo - Armie...  _

We reset.

We reset.

We reset and we reset and we reset.

“ _ Daccapo _ ”...Luca runs his hands through his hair, “Timothèe, good. Very good. You assume control of the kiss.  _ Bravo.  _ Armie, you look like you fight him for control - don’t. Touching Elio is about  _ testing the limits  _ of your control. The audience needs to  _ feel  _ those limits”, Luca does nothing to hide his irritation with me and I return the favour, getting up from our patch of grass.

I ask for a break to stretch my legs and do not wait for an answer before I walk down to the water. Timmy follows me, “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you now?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m having a nervous breakdown”.

Timmy laughs, but his smile dries up immediately when he sees I am just not kidding, “Whoa! OK. What’s the matter - is it the scene?”.

“Yes, it’s the scene. Of course it’s the scene - I am overthinking  _ everything _ . The only good thing about it is it’s killed the wood I was sporting every time your tongue curls around my fingers”, I snap.

“Well that’s...”, Timmy begins - but I am too carried away.

“ _ Roll up - be restrained - test your limits - cede control”,  _ I do a poor imitation of Luca, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”, Timmy’s scowls.

“ _ You  _ said _ you  _ were nervous about this scene! But today, on the actual shoot?  _ ‘Belissimo’  _ Were you just trying to encourage me or something?”, I can’t believe the horrible things I am saying, but that somehow does not manage to stop my mouth.

“Hold up - what would even make you SAY something like that?”, Timmy’s eyes flash with anger.

“I don’t know, Timmy - maybe because it’s true…”   
“Boys!”, Luca yells from the distance.

Timmy closes down entirely - something I’ve never seen before. He quietly says, “I’ll get Luca” and walks away from me. He doesn’t look back.

###  Luca

“Timothèe we are ready - I don’t want to lose the light”.

“Then you had better have some magic words to bring your other leading man back from whatever dark place he’s currently inhabiting”, Timothèe practically growls. 

I sigh and nod my head. I contemplate asking what happened, but I know what is wrong. Every time I’ve cut and restarted the scene, I could see Armie coiling tighter and tighter. I only hoped that when he finally snapped it would be directed at me, but I was too late. Before I leave Timothèe, I embrace him. I feel a little of the tension in his spine unwinding, “Timothèe, whatever stupidity he said, he doesn’t mean. His Oliver wants to push you away - but every time we reset the scene, he pushes harder. I will help him find Oliver’s balance. It’s not you”. 

Timmy’s eyes are shining when he releases me, but he nods. Then I go in search of Armie. 

I find him at the edge of the spring, looking as though he would throw himself into it if only it were deeper. 

“You owe him an apology”, is my opening gambit. I hope to see the fire of a fight still left in Armie, but instead I can see that he has moved on to the self-flagellation portion of the program. 

“For being such a piss poor scene partner? I was afraid I couldn’t do this, that I wasn’t good enough to do this - and you...”, Armie rounds on me. 

“And I convinced you of the truth…”, I pace away from him, angrily, “ _ Dai _ ! That line, you can use for interviews. You and I, we both know - what is terrifying to you is not just showing intimacy, the emotional intimacy - but that  _ that  _ intimacy takes place with a man. And a man you are completely in love with…. _ all'interno della storia, o senza la storia _ ”.

I see now what Elizabeth meant - there are times Armie will look right at you, and never hear a word you say. I try to calm myself before starting again, “Armie….I asked you to take the part because I want you to tell, in the best way possible, a story that I love. Playing the repressed Oliver was no challenge. Because you, too, have denied this part of yourself for your entire life.  Today the real work begins. To tell Oliver’s story, you need to show to the camera the struggle within you to leave that man behind. And Armie? You yourself need to do that as well,  _ mio caro”. _

###  Michael

I was about to mount my bike when I see Timmy tromping off down the hill. I can tell from the set of his shoulders that today was a difficult day - and I can guess why. With a small sigh about the pangs of young love, I drop the kickstand and climb down after him.

Timmy looks up from the felled tree where he is sitting, annoyed at the intrusion. His face softens somewhat when he sees the intruder is only me.

“Rough shoot today?”, no sense in pretending I followed him down an embankment to discuss the weather.

Timmy scowls, “Did Luca send you?”.

“No. Luca told me that the scene’s setting would be an homage to  _ Maurice  _ \- I wanted to know this patch of grass. But...when I was about to leave, I saw you going down this hill. You look like what my grandmother would have called ‘a face full of bad news’”.

“It’s nothing, Michael. Just...didn’t sleep well”.

“Mmhmm. Ok.”

“I...I’m sorry. I know it’s unprofessional", Timmy looks off into the distance.

“There are always nights we could have slept better. You’re no dilettante. Only - you didn’t seem too tired earlier - before Luca kept cutting that last scene, I mean. Are you unhappy with him?”, I probe gently. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t. 

Timmy sighs, his eyes glaze a bit with tears. He doesn’t look at me, “Armie is...he’s having some trouble with the love scene, and it feels like there is little else on the call boards between here and the end”.

I pause for a moment - trying to decide whether discretion is truly the better part of valor - then I plunge ahead, “Considering for a moment that I’ve accidentally come across you two making out on set at least three times, I’m going to guess it’s not down to you, Timmy”.

Timmy blushes deeply, “I didn’t think anybody knew. Well - except Luca and Fernanda.”

“We actors can be an inconveniently observant bunch”, I smile at him.

“I know what you must be thinking….”, Timothèe begins, but I cut him off.

“Timmy - I’m old enough not to judge. Look,...I know I’m not your actual dad, but I do want to see you happy, and, right now, you don’t look happy”, I place my hand on his shoulder as Timmy slowly shakes his head.

“Michael...I… From the first day, when he interrupted my music lesson, I don’t think I could have escaped this. I can’t...I can’t pretend otherwise. It’s always been him”, Timmy sounds forlorn.

He is so young, he breaks my heart, “And what does Armie say?”.

“That he loves me”, Timmy proclaims fiercely. 

“Well, then you have your answer. Let Luca talk to him - and I would hope that he will apologise, regardless. Even if he’s having a rough time - there is no need to drag you down. Remember that?”, I pat his shoulder and he turns to me for a hug. I have a moment of pure paternal pride and want to march right over to Mr Hammer and...ask him his intentions, at the very minimum. But I keep my head about me; they are grown men - regardless of how one of them is acting right now. I do wonder - what will happen to them when the production closes? Timmy seems sincere - but how can what they have continue outside of the bubble of our film set? I watch Timmy climb back up the defile with a growing sense of foreboding. Someone is going to get hurt in all of this, and I don’t want it to be Timmy. 

###  Luca

Armie is silent for a long time. When he speaks, what he says surprises me.

“I...I think I’m jealous?”.

“You are jealous. Of….yourself?”, I consider Armie seriously. There are so many layers within this man, an inner turmoil that runs fathoms deep, and he is only just skimming it’s surface. 

“I’m jealous of Oliver - that he can just reach out and touch Elio - unencumbered”, Armie scowls. 

“You know. When Elizabeth was here she came to speak to me? Do you know what she asked? She asked me to make sure you knew that you had to remain hidden. That if your feelings for Timothèe were exposed to the media - it would destroy the film and your career”, I pause to see Armie process this idea. “Up until that moment, I too, was worried about the impact on the film. Your performances were so pure, so magical - I couldn’t bear to see them written off because you were two men in love”.

“That’s what I mean by encumbered, Luca! Oliver - he has a choice! Oliver knows that the summer will come to an end - he thinks maybe Elio’s crush will burn out. But - if he didn’t believe those things? Oliver had a choice. He could have chosen Elio”, Armie looks as unhappy as I’ve ever known him to look. 

“Oliver could choose Elio, but he doesn’t. And you think that you cannot choose Timmy...but if you were given this option, you would?”, I ask as delicately as I am able.

Armie does not reply.

 

###  Armie

“I...I think I’m jealous?”, I tell Luca.

“You are jealous. Of….yourself?”, to his credit, Luca takes my crazy seriously. I would really lose it if he laughed at me. 

We talk a bit longer, but it doesn’t resolve anything. It does, however, give me a path into the scene. Oliver is reaching out to touch someone who he burns for...but he believes that he is just a passing crush for Elio. That’s where “Better now?” comes from. I have new sympathy for Oliver - it’s fear and desire again. 

Now, I am ready - but I need to connect with my Elio and to do that, I owe Timmy a monster apology.

I find him, coming up the defile. His eyes are a bit red, and his jaw - sharp even when he is relaxed - is so prominent that I am ashamed of myself all over again.

“Timmy….”

“Unless the first thing out of your mouth is ‘I am desperately sorry for being a complete ass’ then it’s better if you don’t even talk to me, Armie. We have a movie to shoot”, Timmy gives me a hard look.

“I  _ am  _ desperately sorry. And a complete ass. The way I treated you is absolutely unconscionable. I was having trouble finding my way into the scene and I took it out on you. It’s disgraceful. You have every right to be pissed as hell with me”, I hang my head.

“I am. We all have shit days. I would listen to you vent. I would give you suggestions if you wanted them. I won’t be your punching bag. That’s a dick move - and you know it”, Timmy draws himself up to his full height. I accept what he is telling me without comment - I know that it is true. “All of that said, I forgive you - just don’t do that to me again”, his hard persona dissolves a little with this last phrase, and I wish I could offer the universe anything within my power to rewind to this morning, to un-fuck-up this day. Failing that, I reach for him, “Please, let me hold you - just for a minute?”, I whisper under my breath.

He comes willingly into my arms - but he tucks his face away when we hug. 

“C’mon. We have a movie to make, and hair-and-makeup are gonna be on our case for getting...puffy”, Timmy touches my cheek, under my left eye.

“Jesus, Fernanda is the only person I’ve not entirely ticked off today - okay, let’s go”, I take Timmy’s hand in mine and we head back to the trailers.

###  Timothèe 

There are a few more takes, and a couple different angles - but the afternoon work is better than the morning and we ultimately get our shot. For the very end of the scene, Elio grabs Oliver’s crotch - and then, according to the script - is surprised at his own audacity. Luca can see, after a single take, that reading will not work for me, not today. 

He crouches down on the ground between us, “Timothèe, you wish to try a different reading of that line?”.

_ “Oui, quelque chose de complètement différent. Elio dévoile le secret d'Oliver, est-ce pas? _ ”, I tell him that I want Elio to call Oliver out. I speak French to Luca - cutting Armie out of the conversation entirely. 

Luca smiles, “Instinct!  _ Ç'est cela!” _ , he tousles my hair, then smooths it back into place.

The next time we run the scene, I grab Armie’s crotch like I own him - and not a single grab either, but holding and claiming. When I say the line “Am I offending you?”, I speak as much to Armie as I do to Oliver, saying  _ would you rather be good or have this? I touch you, you harden in my grasp. ‘What is life without this?’.  _ There is Elio’s insouciance, Oliver hangs his head and Armie lets out a slow sigh before reaching his hand down over mine and removing my grip.

By the time we shoot the other side, Armie is more in control, and Oliver manages a very convincing “Just don’t”. We close down the shoot for the day with a bit of biking. If the weatherman is to be believed, there are a few non-rainy days in store. Luca invites us all to dinner, as he and Sayombhu discuss the next day’s shoot animatedly.

Armie and I go back to our apartments. I need to shower off the sweat, sunblock, and the rest of the day. I want to be alone - to think about what Michael said and what I’d said to Michael. I was so quick to defend Armie, so sure of his love. But there was something he wasn’t saying during his apology, and I - for the first time - tried to picture a future with Armie. If I honestly believed that there was no path forward that did not have him in it, why couldn’t I picture what any of those paths would look like? 

I was combing conditioner through my tangled hair when I hear the bathroom door close. Armie opens the shower door and is about to join me, but the look on my face stops him.

“You are upset”, he says - looking surprised.

“Mmmm. I’m going to need a minute. Wait for me outside?”, if we have to do this, better we should resolve it now. If I think too much, I’ll convince myself that I am overreacting.

I dry off with a towel and put on a t-shirt and jeans. I slick back my hair and scowl a silent reprimand at my mirror. I am procrastinating.

Armie is sitting on the couch, drinking a beer. When I enter the room he rises, just a bit - then sits back down. On a normal day - he would be draped over half the couch, flipping through television channels that he doesn’t understand, or fidgeting with his phone. Today he does none of these things. He sits, contained - his hands on his knees. His face...it’s as though he’s already heard this conversation, and it has broken his heart entirely. I cannot say for sure that I do not look just the same.

“Timmy?”, he says my name and it contains worlds of pain, desire, and love. I cannot speak, so I drop to my knees in front of him and lay my head down in his lap. I don’t even realize I’m crying until he pulls me up to dry my tears.

“Shhh - it’s OK. it’s OK, Timmy. My Timmy, my miracle. Talk to me, please? Or else, how can I fix it? Please let me try?”, Armie murmurs into my hair.

I pull it together, “No, I’m sorry. It’s just...I don’t want this to end. We have so little time left - and then it's gonna be over”.

“No - why would you say that?”

“What am I to you? How would you introduce me at a party?”

“My...Boyfriend?”, Armie says in a voice more self-assured than how he actually feels.

“We both know that is not true. You are married. You have children. That isn’t going to change. For the duration of press for this movie, that really shouldn’t change. So - you go back, wife and kid - baby on the way - and where am I? Back to school and try to forget? How? How do you forget this?”

“You don’t. We don’t. We...wait. Once the press has died down, maybe we take a breather from projects. No major films to promote”, Armie is picking up speed, discussing this magical future where we can be together.

I cut him off, and ask the blunt question,“So you’ll leave Elizabeth? Leave your family? For this? For...for me”, I already know the answer, he doesn’t have to say it.

“Timmy you are...being with you has turned my entire world inside out. I...You haven’t spent much time in Hollywood, but it isn’t easy to get work if you are out. There is like - one ‘acceptable’ Hollywood gay at a time, currently it’s Neil Patrick Harris. He isn’t retiring any time soon. You are so talented - you could have a career, a life in LA. I don’t want to keep you from that”, Armie holds my hands, pleads with me to understand.

“You love her”.

“Of course I love her - she married me, she’s the mother of my child...children”, Armie corrects himself.

“You don’t want to choose. And if you had to choose, I won’t be your choice”, I sound petulant, defeated. I knew this going in, but I didn’t let myself feel it until now.

“I can’t choose. You two are so completely different. I owe her so much, and she’s given so much of herself for me”, Armie shakes his head.

“And I’m just your teenage, male lover - a scandal by any measurement”, I stand and run my fingers through my hair.

“Timmy….”, I’ve already walked away. I lean on the window, looking out on the piazza, trying to pull myself together enough to watch  _ Body Heat  _ (of all things) at Luca’s. Armie continues in a voice so small, I almost do not hear him at all, “...you are my heart of hearts”.


	13. I Couldn’t See You Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Armie opens his arms and I fall into his embrace without ceremony, without hesitation. He murmurs, “I don’t expect absolution...but...I can’t give you up. It’s selfish, I think?”._  
>  “Then I’m selfish too. I’m not ready to lay this down - I don’t care if it hurts me...I’m not even sure that I care if it hurts you. Tonight, I need you here”, I look at him, fiercely. He nods and kisses my face as though it were precious to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for putting up with my exceptionally slow pace of posting. I always think "the next one will be faster" - but I am never right. Also - although I cannot control what happens to this work, I would like to remind folks that - though based on real characters, this is a work of fiction, first and foremost.
> 
> I Couldn't See You Coming - _Ivy,_ by Frank Ocean

### Timothèe

Neither of us much felt like dinner, but we still trudged over to Luca’s for the screening. We dropped down next to each other on the couch to watch _Body Heat_ ; I fell asleep 15 minutes in. I woke when the lights came up at the end of the film, curled under his arm, gripping Armie’s shirt like a child. Luca showed the other guests out. Fernando fixed Armie with a stare that was the furthest thing from charitable. Not everyone is pleased not to judge. Armie ran his hand down my back protectively. The irony wasn’t lost on me - if I were to be hurt, it would be my protector doing it.

“You ready to go home, T?”, Armie whispers into my hair.

I sit up and stretch. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I am sure the thought filtered through - that, given our earlier conversation, I should sleep alone. But sleeping with a broken heart would be hard enough, and I couldn’t...didn’t want to face the night alone as well. I stand and pull Armie up. I nod to Ferdinando - who grasps the back of my neck for a moment as he kisses my cheek. Armie gently crowds against me to get us moving towards the door.

We walk home - our bodies are almost touching the entire time, but we no longer hold hands. Armie hesitates for a second at my doorway. I turn and pull him in; he comes, looking relieved. Before crossing the lounge to our bedroom, Armie stops me.

“I know this solves nothing - we’ve resolved nothing tonight - but I am so glad you want me here, so glad you still fell asleep in my arms at Luca’s,...if I couldn’t touch you, I wouldn’t be able to breathe”.

I laugh without humor, “I don’t know - you’ve done a fair job of it for 28 years without me”.

“No. I converted oxygen to carbon dioxide. I didn’t breathe. Being here - being with you taught me how.”

I shake my head, but - in a way - I understand what he means. There is something more...vital in my life with him in it. I don’t have the words to discuss it, nor do I entirely trust words in matters of the heart.

Words, however, are very possibly Armie’s true great love,“I don’t know what’s going to happen. After this - I have...shit...I have so much to sort out and so much I owe...not to mention the baby on the way. Look. I am not saying it will be quick, or easy...I’m saying the opposite: it will be lengthy and difficult - but if that is what you want me to do, I will”, he radiates sincerity and hope. The question he asks is a good one - what do I want him to do? What is it fair to ask him to sacrifice? What can I, realistically, live with?

“I don’t think either one of us is really ready for this conversation”, I smile to see that positively mulish expression that I have come to love on his face, “OK! Fine! I’m not ready. I am ready to go to bed...to sleep...and I would very much like to sleep with you”.

Armie opens his arms and I fall into his embrace without ceremony, without hesitation. He murmurs, “I don’t expect absolution...but...I can’t give you up. It’s selfish, I think?”.

“Then I’m selfish too. I’m not ready to lay this down - I don’t care if it hurts me...I’m not even sure that I care if it hurts you. Tonight, I need you here”, I look at him, fiercely. He nods and kisses my face as though it were precious to him.

We strip off our clothes in silence - I pull on sweatpants, he sleeps in boxers - we brush our teeth and plug in our phones; a perfectly normal, dull, domestic scene. The night sounds come in through the open window - cicadas and doves sleeping in the eaves, punctuated by the occasional rattle of a bike over cobblestones. I pull Armie close - he is golden from the day’s sunshine. I imagine I can taste it on his skin. I graze my nose over his chest and neck, where his cologne combines with the smell that is uniquely him.

“Could this be something we have? In that theoretical future when we’ve sorted all this out? Could we have ‘goodnight’ and turning over? Our bed, not 'yours' or 'mine'?,” I ask him.

Armie pulls me closer, and embroiders on the fantasy, “King-sized bed, dogs at the foot of it? Linens with clean lines and astronomical thread counts - like Luca’s?”.

“How do you know so much about Luca’s thread counts?”

Armie laughs, “Not from anything exciting, I promise. Ferdinando hates me already if I’d transgressed on his partnership, he’d flat out murder me. No - when Luca was giving Elizabeth and Nikki the tour, I told him how much I liked the style of his bedroom. The Wife was not having it - ‘so many dark colours are oppressive’”.

“I like Luca’s bed,” I say, loyally, “...it’s minimalist, but still beautiful...comfortable too”.

“OK…?”

“Ferdinando doesn’t hate me, not at all…,” I tease.

“You had better be kidding…,” Armie does not like the joke.

I laugh but assure him that my knowledge is purely theoretical.

“OK - Dogs, no cats. A king-sized bed, but only if we can find an old-fashioned four-poster bed stand to fit it”, I agree.

“A sturdy one, mmmhmm, heavy…”, Armie’s face burrows in my curls.

“Stop,” I whisper, “New York or LA?”

“Both?”

I settle against him - it’s a nice thought - closer to a fantasy than a future, though. Armie’s quiet sigh tells me that he knows this too. Tonight, however - there is nothing either of us can do about that, so we cling to one another silently until sleep claims us.

### Armie

I feel trapped.

Elizabeth is my wife - I stole her away from the guy she was seriously dating because I had to have her. We’ve been together - been happy - for nearly 10 years. She is the mother of my child...children. In a way,...I love Elizabeth.

I didn’t expect...any of it, really. I played gay characters before. Experiencing _attraction_ to a guy did not really surprised me. There were other men I found handsome, even sexy...but that is where the story ends. If I am going to be completely honest, there were other men - Luca, for example - for whom I felt love,...infatuation, even. But - those emotional connections weren’t reciprocated in kind, and could ultimately be sublimated into ardent friendship.

And now...Timmy.

“Is this something we could have? Once we figure everything out….,” he asked me.

In my head, I could picture it - a heavy oak bed frame, fire in the hearth...Archie flopped over - taking up half the bed, pushing Timmy into the cave of my arms. Sleeping with him, waking with him - days trading scripts back and forth over coffee, nights bound to the bedposts - a living Caravaggio painting - my personal fallen angel, belonging to no one else in the world, only me.

Hops already loves him...maybe the new one would too.

Except - he’s only 19...and a strangely sheltered 19 for growing up in New York City. Except he is so goddamn talented  - and there is still so much prejudice in Hollywood. That goes for me, too. I’ve been trying to work my way back to having a career I can be proud of - not to be relegated to LA’s gay ghetto. I want to take care of him - I can’t see how destroying his career before it’s barely fledged will be good for him. I have no business even asking this of him. He said he’s not ready to have the conversation; realistically, neither am I.

Everything I want comes with too high a price...and that taste of what life might be like with him, it has only served to make the cravings worse. Oliver and the eggs all over again - from our first embrace, would I have ever been satisfied? Could I have ever let him be after our first ‘rehearsal’ kiss? No.

But now what?

### Luca

Everyone has left; the apartment is quiet, still as moonlight. The kitchen is cleared, helpful fairies - most likely Roberta and Fernanda, who cannot abide _Body Heat -_ have washed and put away the dishes. I walk through my home, closing lights - until I arrive in our bedroom. Ferdinando is still awake, waiting for me.

“ _Amore, lui non si merita il suo amore, davvero_ ”, is how I am greeted.

“ _Ciao, animo mio_ . _Si_ , your opinion of Armie and Timothee... _preso atto con grazie_ , noted,” I was hoping I might avoid this conversation because I know where next it goes.

“ _Allora, che ci fai?_ ,”...ah, there it is. _What do I intend to do about it?_

“Nothing. _Niete_. They are grown men - their affairs are their own”, I hold my ground - I almost believe it.

“Of course, let Timothèe drown because of that _uomo egoista...Non si puo avere la botte piena è la moglie ubriaca,”_ Ferdinando frowns.

“You know, the Americans say ‘have your cake and eat it too’ - I prefer the expression in Italian… This situation does not bode well, I agree. Today was...Armie brought this whole angst ride to our set - he upset even Timothèe. I did not think to see them curled together on our sofa tonight. I talked to Armie...I did. Who knows if he is even capable of listening? _Lui è innamorato_ \- he is in love”.

“... _è inamorato_...that excuses nothing”, my partner counters.

“Indeed, it does not - in many ways - it makes things worse” I rub my face in my hands, “...but, Elio and Marzia will be shooting soon. Perhaps a bit of time apart will allow cooler heads to prevail? You are skeptical? Yes, me too,” and with a small sigh, I pull back the covers and slide into bed. I hope for the best - but I am not so blind that I do not also expect the worst where these men are concerned. At least they won’t be in a strop for the nosebleed scene, provided that nothing else goes wrong.

* * *

The next day of filming, everything seems to be back to normal between the boys. The work with the Italian actors is just a joy. They keep the energy of their debating through take after take. Off camera, everyone is laughing with silent tears as they steamroll the conversation for what must feel like hours to them. We need this comic interlude - and not just for the film.

I attempt a wide shot to encompass the footsie-play underneath the table, but, in the end, the moment in the _Midnight_ sequence will have more impact if it begins there. The blocking of the foot rub is very precise; it must be - we have next to no room to navigate the space. Timothèe is a chimera today - now a young boy, sulking in a corner, next a wounded faun - his mastery is evident in these scenes, where he handles the clothes of Oliver, Oliver’s necklace.

The last shot of the day has Oliver mounting his bike and running away from temptation. Armie, on the other hand, closes the shoot by throwing a fully clad Timothèe into the pool and then diving in after him. The two of them roughhouse like happy puppies and I again ask myself why does Armie _need_ to give this up? Why does he think that there is no other choice for him - when the other choice - his parallel life - is so apparent: Timothèe.

For Armie - this love for Timothèe - it is the sort of disruption that his carefully constructed life desired. The blockbuster of the studio system failed him, because - in the end - his gifts were meant to be more subtly drawn out. I wonder if his marriage to Elizabeth will fail him for the same reason? It is a careful life, a curated life, with the largest source of disruption in Armie himself. She is a strong woman - perhaps even brave, to consider allowing her husband to explore this affaire. But she is, in the end, conventional. There is no future without her in it for Armie, if Elizabeth is to be believed. And it is clear that Armie believes her...at least he does now.

Timothèe - on the other hand - he has the strength within himself to be  _exactly_ who he is. More than this, he has the desire to be great - a desire that time and experience will gratify for him, I am certain of it. Would entering a relationship with Armie work for Timothèe? The arguments against it sound like the thoughts of Oliver, pacing in his room - trying to talk himself out of drowning in love for Elio: Timmy is young, inexperienced, in the throes of first love.

I hear Ferdinando telling the boys to knock it off - _eight years ago, I did not know what love could be - only ever unreciprocated until I met him - and nothing was ever the same again. He was young - barely older than Timmy is now - but at the time, I felt that he guided and taught me what it is to love, just as Timothèe seems to be teaching Armie._

I look at my partner fondly and he instinctively finds me and returns my smile...8 years ago is yesterday - and one great love is enough.

### Timothèe

The slates for the next few days are all me and Esther. No Armie. I didn’t really think about the disparity in screen time until this point. There have always been Oliver scenes interspersed - now there is a solid several days that won’t require Armie. When we get up, I realize that Armie can stay in bed. He collects his things, “You don’t need to go. Sleep. I’ll see you tonight? At Luca’s?”.

“Hmm? Yeah, OK - tonight”, Armie stretches out - completely naked - with a very direct look on his face and deliberate hands over his body.

Consequently, I am late for my first call ever, and Luca has this...look about him. I am afraid I’m about to catch hell, but he only hurries me into hair and makeup. When I come out, dressed for my ‘date night’ with Marzia, Luca is all smiles.

Armie joins us for lunch - at Luca’s building - where we will also shoot the ‘readers hide’ scene. While we eat, I spend time with Esther; she is nervous about shooting the kissing scenes. Her father has such an opposite process. He rehearses the actors until every motion is rote, settled - before he shoots. He likes performance to be muscle memory. I flirt with her, saying that if she wants to spend the next hour making out with me, she could have just said. Esther blushes - I catch a sharp look from Armie.  Esther leaves to ‘prepare’ - after a moment, my phone pings - _picture.jpg -_ _Coming THIS Friday!_ I smile and trot off to brush my teeth.

Armie watches Esther and I kissing up against a wall. Just knowing that he is there is an added turn on. Esther is French and very frank with her body. She is an excellent kisser - Luca doesn’t want any tentativeness in our love-making - except that bourne of inexperience. Marzia is not  ‘less-than’ Oliver, not in terms of Elio’s attraction.

When Marzia says the “you are so hard” line, she really slips her hand in my jeans and I really get hard. When Luca says cut, I turn away to adjust myself and find my chill. No one from the crew is looking - only Armie. The expression on his face is unsettling. It’s almost as though he was unaware I had a cock. I shoot him a confused look and he shakes his head slightly.

When I approach him, he turns to leave.

“Armie? You are giving me the weirdest look…,” I hear him sigh before he turns around.

“I came to bring your phone, you left it on the lunch table,” Armie runs his eyes over my entire body, stopping at my groin, “You’re hard”.

“Yeah - unfortunately they are almost done resetting - not enough time for us to do anything about it,” I palm myself lightly through my jeans, “Not that such thoughts are helpful in settling things down”.

“Kissing Esther made you hard,” Armie looks...upset.

“To be fair, she also just grabbed my cock. I guess it lends some verisimilitude to the scene….Wait. Are you angry about this?”.

“I wasn’t expecting that you felt this way,” he invades my personal space, grabbing my cock through my jeans, “about all of your co-stars”.

“What are you talking about? I’m 19 - it has a mind of its own sometimes. I’m not...Esther and me, we aren’t...it’s just a movie,” I pant into Armie’s neck. “Oh ffffuck - you have to stop”.

Armie looks like he’s having a private conversation; nothing in his face reveals that he is administering erotic torture. He whispers, lips brushing the edge of my ear, that I belong to him - he claims me. Things would have progressed further, had Luca not come over and told Armie, point blank, that he knew what he was doing - and stop it immediately.

Luca throws me his apartment key, “Timmy, perhaps you want to go upstairs to…ahem… compose yourself. Armie - stay right here,” Luca gives Armie an evil look, and I rush into the building to either get off or calm down. My heart is rabbiting and I feel dizzy. It’s actually easier to will the erection away. I splash some water on my face and return to the set. By the time I return, Armie is gone.

### Armie

I am at loose ends when I’m not shooting, especially because Timmy is. I join cast and crew at lunch, as they are right across from our apartment. Timmy almost ignores me, he so wrapped up in Esther. When she leaves, I expect his attention will finally turn back to us, but instead - he is playing with his phone. Texting with Esther? I see a small, secretive smile pass his lips - then he leaves, forgetting his phone on the table. I pick it up when the next text comes through, From:

SumSum :  _ Not the same without you, T. xoxo.  _ The phone is still unlocked; so I erase the text, boiling over with jealousy that someone writes flirty texts to my...my Timmy, dammit.

I should have left then; I know what is on the slate for this afternoon - and there is no way that seeing Timmy make love to Esther while Luca watches with rapt attention will improve my mood or assuage my jealousy…. But I am an idiot, because I do stay - lurking in the background. I observe Timmy before he and Esther shoot the kissing scene. They stand, just off camera, he holds her against his body - synchronizing their breathing to deepen the intimacy of what is about to be filmed. He is utterly focused, absorbed. I watch thinking only  _ what a fine actor _  - I swear - that is, until Luca calls cut and I see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. 

Combined with the message from earlier, perhaps my possessive over-reaction is not all that surprising. I try to leave, because if I say something - it will invariably be something that I’ll regret later. Timmy catches me before I can escape.

When he asks, I pretend that I’d only stayed to give him his phone - but once my mouth opens, it is impossible to stop it, “You’re hard. Kissing Esther made you hard...”.

Timmy doesn’t even deny it. Just says his cock has a mind of its own with a shrug of his lanky shoulders… when all I want to say is  _ your cock is MINE.  _ I am angry - no, furious - to think that just any co-star could bring him to this state. He is in costume, but I don’t care. I lay claim to his arousal, masturbating Timmy through his jeans. Timmy melts against my side - protesting, but just barely. I incline my head just enough to whisper “You. You  _ belong _ to me”, when Luca sails in. He stops us with absolutely no hesitation and calls me out for interfering with  _ his  _ actor. He sends Timmy to ‘calm down’ and then tells me, point blank, to be elsewhere  - where the temptation of deviltry would be far less, or at least - of lesser consequence to him, “Perhaps a day trip somewhere?  Milan? Firenze? You get into trouble when left too long to your own devices”. Behind Luca, I see Timmy return - looking calm and collected...and I am even jealous that he brought himself off without me. This is no good - I nod to Luca and leave before Timmy joins us. 

Back in my apartment, I pull out my overnight bag and start throwing things in. Everything is flung haphazardly. I pull up the train schedule on my computer - Milan to Florence is only a couple hours by train - I can book a car to Milan. Perhaps I’ll stay overnight - try to get my head on straight before I return. I check the clock - Timmy will be home soon - an hour more, maybe less. I make some dinner plans - just the two of us at V------, which I hope will serve as something of an apology. Then - train reserved and hotel booked - I head into the shower.

###  Timothèe

I spend the afternoon kissing Esther under the portico of Luca’s building. She rolls her hips against me, her hands coast down my back on to my ass, her tongue flicks against my own. We shoot in the evening too - the first time Marzia and Elio make love. By the time we are ready to film the ‘first time’ - I have to ask for Luca’s keys again, only this time I bring myself off against the bathroom wall. I will admit, a few images of Esther naked underneath me flip through my head as I tug on my balls. But mostly - as always - I see Armie, sprawled naked in our bed...Armie’s massive hands palming me through my jeans...whispering possessively in my ear,  _ You belong to me... _ I come in under 5 minutes.

Back on set, Sayombhu and Luca debate whether I should remove my clothes entirely or just open my pants - dressing me and undressing me in the lighting like one of Pauline’s old Barbie dolls. In the end, they decide I’m too pale to cover Esther, naked in the moonlight. And if I’m leaving shirt and jacket in place, I really shouldn’t be taking off the jeans either.  I’m told to pull myself out of my jeans as though I were going to do the deed - letting them slip down, but only a little. We spend another hour shooting me thrusting into Esther - different angles - tempos - the direction in the script is to pull out at the last minute and come on her belly. Actors say - all the time - that shooting love scenes is NEVER sexy and that is certainly true here. Unlike earlier, I have no problem maintaining my lack-of-erection and I spend so much time gently pumping in plank position that my arms buckle on one take. When we are finally done, Esther and I roll with laughter in the grass. She giggles and massages my upper arms, “Mon héros”. We walk off set together - arms around each other’s shoulders - and return to town.

I check my phone - no texts from Armie. Only one other message SumSum:  _ Italy in a torrential downpour? The things I do for you, T.  _ I smile and suggest to Esther that we go in search of food. All of my planking made me hungry. She shakes her head, but agrees to dinner in town. 

When I finally roll in to my flat, it’s close on to midnight. Armie is not in my place, so I head over to his, but the memory of the last time I came to Armie’s uninvited stalls me in the hallway. Instead, I lean against the wall to text him  _ Where have you gone? Missed you at dinner. _

A message comes back almost immediately -  _ wanted to take you to v-------. home - come over>.  _ I knock on his door.

“That was fast,” Armie opens his door, looking a bit...something. Drunk? Maybe high.

“I was already in the hallway - just didn’t know where to find you,” I answer.

“You don’t need to knock”.

“Yeah, well - that didn’t work out so well the last time I tried it, so…..,” I look past Armie into the lounge - instead of a robe-clad Elizabeth, I see a suitcase on the sofa. “What’s this?”.

“So - Luca suggested that I should get away, if I can’t….um...behave myself on set with you making it with Esther...which, I guess I sort of can’t,” Armie sounds apologetic and angry at the same time. 

“With Marzia. Elio is making it with Marzia, not Esther. So you are going to leave?,” I try to keep my voice even.

“Just one night or so - Florence is only a couple hours away - and...and I  _ should  _ go,” there is a pleading tone in Armie’s voice - as if he is willing me to understand. But all I can see is that he is already running away from me - and I cannot chase him.

“Yeaah, OK. We’ll miss you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more of tonight together,” I try to sound casual, but I can tell by Armie’s sad expression that I failed utterly, “It’s only a couple days - actually, it  _ is  _ good timing. A buddy of mine from LaGuardia is coming into town - so we will get some time together, too. When did you say you will be back?”.

“A day or two - I’m not on the call list until next week, I think,” Armie’s expression falters.

“Yeah - then you could even take more time, can’t you? I mean - I would imagine you wouldn’t want Will to find out about us, right? That makes things easier…,” some of the bitterness I feel must be leaching into my expression; Armie looks conflicted - but I can’t let us part now. “Yeah - so, come on - you are sleeping at mine tonight, aren’t you? Finish what you started…,” here, I whisper into his neck just as he did to me earlier, “...if  _ I belong to you.  _ **_Prove it to me”._ **

 

###  Armie

So...that didn’t go well. I thought I would be helping - at the very least - obeying Luca by going away...little did I know that I wouldn’t have a chance to apologise because Timmy didn’t stop home as he usually does. And now - he is angry. He wants me to stay away even longer because he has company coming...now I am the dirty little secret and I don’t like it one bit. He wants me to come to bed with him - to fuck him and remind him that he belongs to me. A disaster...again - but when he opens his arms, I do not hesitate. I never will when he is concerned. 

We make love - it is love - though it starts harsh and unforgiving, but the feeling of his hands in my hair, the taste of his skin, the evening breeze...the entire universe conspires to slow things down, return our hearts to the proceedings. I love him - I know it’s not enough, not halfway to enough - but tonight it will have to do. Tonight it is all we have. He pulls me close - and when I touch him so I can enter his body, he gasps as though he has been holding his breath all the while. Intertwined, we barely move - every inch of our bare skin touches as we rock together. When orgasm finally takes us, I cannot tell where he begins and I end. Even after I come, I don’t withdraw until I soften and slip away. Only then do I realize that we didn’t even use protection. Nothing between us, just love. Timmy sighs and reaches for a shirt to wipe off, in a small voice he says, “I don’t want you to go”.

“I can cancel the plans, Timmy,”.

“No - you  _ should  _ go. I won’t even be around and when I am - I’ll be exhausted...but, maybe only one night?,” Timothèe settles on to my chest.

“Only one night,” I agree.

In the morning, Timmy wakes me with a blow job and finishes inside me from behind. I grip his thigh tightly enough to bruise him when I come. We shower together, although this threatens to make Timmy late to call for the second day in a row. 

“So tell me about the guy who is coming to visit. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“You literally had a four person entourage stay here for a week and you think Will’s visit is unusual?”

“That was my wife…”

“...and your daughter, and your nanny, and your...whatever the hell Nikki is. What is Nikki?”

“He’s a friend - and you are avoiding the question. What’s with this guy?”

“Nothing is  _ with  _ Will - I’ve known him for years, he worships Luca - Will’s an AD, he’s gonna be a director someday - and he’s traveling in Europe,” Timmy says a little impatiently. 

“I’ve never heard you mention him before…”

“Christ, Armie - you can’t be jealous of my entire life! I’ve never given you cause, have I?,” Timmy’s irritation boils over and I am immediately contrite. 

“Okay, Okay!  My heads not on right, clearly. Hope shooting goes well today - and I’ll see you when I get back,” I try to mollify Timmy - he is very annoyed. 

“Okay,” Timmy barely looks at me when he says, “I’ll miss you”. He throws his arms around my neck and holds on for a long minute. Already I don’t want to leave - but the car service texts; they are downstairs, so I kiss him and I go. 

 

( _ Later ...in Florence) _

 

I’m glad I came. I wish Nikki were here to keep me company, (and to translate) - but it’s good. Some time to myself assured me that - first and foremost - Timothèe loves me. Even though he was annoyed, he sent a huge basket of peaches and champagne to my room at Villa Cora. As I lay alone in my massive bed, waiting for him to text me back, I realize that I need to show Timmy that I  _ am serious.  _ He asked about our possible future - but he no more believed in what I envisioned than he would any other bedtime story. He thinks our relationship is a fairytale; gone with the first touch of daylight. I don’t know how it can work - but I’m seriously committed to trying, if he wants it, too. The next morning, I spend more time in Firenze. After a leisurely lunch (a beautiful Tuscan steak) and a visit to the Uffizi, I trail in and out of jewelers to find some earrings for the Wife - she’s earned them. In one of the last shops along the Ponte Vecchio, I find it. It’s a man’s bracelet, a heavy gold chain with a nameplate on top. On the bottom, near the clasp, there is a gold disk - a charm that can be engraved. Underneath the nameplate, I engrave quotes from the book in ornate script “For you in Silence ~ Cor Cordium” On the charm - which will be visible - I ask for an E engraved inside an O for Elio and Oliver. 

When I see the completed work, I miss Timmy like an ache. The next train leaves in about an hour - if I hurry, I can be on it - and be home no later than 10. 

Home. Crema. 

 

###  Timothèe

Will arrives on set Thursday, just in time to watch Elio go down on Marzia. I wonder privately if I have a voyeuristic kink because I find myself getting hard at the idea of him watching me. Fortunately, that thought turns my mind to Armie, which - in this circumstance - kills any incipient boner. When we break for the day, Will emerges from the background and hugs me, holding me tightly, “My Muse”, he greets me. 

“You’re early,” I comment, allowing myself to relax into the embrace. 

“Well, I couldn’t wait. Traveling through Europe has made me realize just how much I’d love to do together,” Will looks at me fondly. 

“I’m not surprised - your French was always crap,” I tease him. 

Will makes a mock-offended noise and then - when it must seem to him that I would do nothing other than stare at him, as though I am waiting for him to vanish - he gently prompts me to make some introductions. I snap out of my daze to play host. 

He knows Esther through mutual friends, is appropriately star struck to meet Luca (who is unfailingly kind, inviting Will to join the cast and crew for dinner the next night). He chats with everyone, taking in all of the details with a directorial eye, but also keeping tabs on me. Once I’m back in street clothes, I invite him to dinner, only then does he ask to go by my place first. I can see the exhaustion, hidden behind burning curiosity in his ocean blue eyes. 

“C’mon. Let’s go home,” I pull his sleeve and he happily follows my lead, a lanky arm draped over my shoulders while the other grabs his bag. 

“So - where is your leading man? I thought I’d see Hammer hanging about here, too,” Will cocks his head. 

“He isn’t slated for a couple days - went to Florence,” I mumble. Will notices my reluctance to talk about Armie and files it away. I’ve become so accustomed to being watched attentively - between Luca directing me and Armie. I am too casual, I realize - once it’s too late. 

Back at the apartment, Will takes in the place with a comprehensive glance, “Is there anything like take out? I’m beyond beat, I want to hear everything about you and the shoot….and I don’t have it in me to yell over restaurant noise”.

“There is. Pizza, even”

“Alright. I promise more social butterflying after a good night's sleep. Just don’t start calling me old man again,” Will grins. 

“You aren’t  _ old…” _

_ “ _ Eh - it’s a matter of perspective, which you clearly lack - seeing as your leading man co-star is ancient. I gain youthfulness by comparison,” Will begins glibly but when I don’t respond his attention sharpens, “Oh God! I knew it. You hooked up with him. He’s supposed to be straight! What happened? One look at those soulful green eyes and perfect mouth and he was like ‘Wifey who?’”.

I am blushing so hard I might spontaneously combust - if such a thing were possible. 

“Oh, ho! Timo… it  _ is _ just a hookup, isn’t it?,” when I don’t respond, Will continues, “Oh.  _ Ma muse _ , you wanna tell me what happened?” he sits down next to me on the couch and wraps an arm protectively around my shoulders.

I lean into his chest, dropping my defensive armor, “You really wanna hear it?”.

###  Armie

I play with my phone on the train, hoping to make the time pass more quickly. No texts from Timmy, but that’s to be expected - he’s working. Luca sent a note about dinner at his place tonight; Timmy’s friend will be joining us - but I won’t arrive in time.  For the 100th time, I open the box with the bracelet and turn it over in my hand. I hope he will like it...I try to think of something to say when I give it to him, but my mind keeps repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you” like a mantra. We arrive in Milan slightly behind schedule. It will be almost midnight before I’m back in Crema.

The driver chats with me in broken English, and I reply in a mix of English and Italian...and probably some Spanish if the looks he is giving me are any indication. We talk about the unseasonable weather and the traffic in Milan. I want to be back home - Crema is ‘home’ to me now, and I realize that is almost exclusively down to Timmy.  Every time I saw a painting or sculpture - it reminded me of him when I saw something funny - I immediately wanted to tell him. I’ve been away from him for a single night and I could barely cope, I missed him so much. The time is coming where we will have to decide how to manage our lives beyond the shelter of Crema - and - if this trip is any indication - I won’t do well if I have to give Timmy up.

The building is dark and silent when I get home. So is Luca’s house. I take the stairs two at a time and don’t even think of going to my apartment. I go directly into Timothée’s flat, using the key he gave me.

The lounge is silent and dark - I see no sign of Timmy’s friend, either. I drop my bag and walk quietly into the bedroom, removing my shirt as I go. I find Timmy in bed on top of the covers,  shirtless - his baggy sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. He is curled up on the bare chest of a handsome, blonde guy who has his hand splayed protectively over my...my Timmy’s ass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any character here is in service to the story of two guys falling in love while making a movie about two guys falling in love. If you feel they might resemble a real-life person, please ignore the feeling until it passes ;)


	14. Things Come Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie returns to Crema and meets Will, Timmy's friend from NYC who has come for a visit. Their Crema idyll is interrupted, and for a time - it seems that nothing goes to plan. A party at Luca's brings the issue to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all a million times over for following along with this story. We - like the boys - have so little time left. I do love chatting in the comment section - and hope we can continue the dialogue through the coming chapters.  
> Senza Parole is - unequivocally - a Real Person Fic (emphasis on 'fic')...but the real people only serve as a jumping off point for the story of complications in life and especially in love. I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I've enjoyed meditating on them for you. Ciao!

###  Timothèe

“Who the FUCK is this?” Armie thunders.

I wake, nearly falling off the bed. “Fuck - we fell asleep,” I wipe my hands over my face, “Armie, this is Will”.

“I don’t give a fuck who this is…”

“You just asked…”

“WHY are you half-naked in bed with him?!?”

“We fell asleep watching  _ Punch Drunk Love _ for the 90th time - calm down!”, I admit it doesn’t look particularly good. I’m half out of my clothes - Will is wearing basketball shorts that are  _ short _ ...and we were curled up together, which isn’t exactly uncommon for the two of us, but I don’t think this is the right time to tell Armie that.

Will chimes in, “Don’t worry, Armie. It really isn’t what it looks like. Not tonight, at least”.

“Will - not helpful....,” I say, quietly.

Armie sneers at Will, “And just  _ what _ is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s eyebrow shoots up, and I decide to nip this right in the bud, “NOTHING - this is two people who have known each other since childhood sleeping - SLEEPING - in the same bed...and ONE person - who should REALLY know better - freaking out about it!”

Will pets down my back and Armie nearly punches him. I fly out of bed, grabbing Armie by the biceps and turning him around, “You need to get out, right now. I mean it, Armie,” my voice is dangerously shaky as I hustle him out into the lounge. Will follows behind me.

Armie looks over my shoulder at him, “I’m sorry - at what point did we decide that it’s okay for you to fall into bed with just any…”

“It’s NOT just any...No. You know - you don’t get to do this. Even if you opened MY bedroom door to see Will balls deep inside me - you have NO FUCKING RIGHT. How many times did you come to my bed - completely  _ dirty _ from someone else’s lovemaking - utterly fucked-out by Elizabeth, and I said nothing. You told me you couldn’t choose between us - and I gave in to you - gave you space - would give you anything because I love you. FUCK YOU! I said this before you left to ‘get your head on straight’ - you DO NOT get to be jealous of my entire life,” I am crying so hard, I barely can complete the sentence.

“Timmy…,” Armie softens - he looks close to crying himself.

“I think you should go. I don’t think either of you is in the right state of mind to have this talk,” Will holds me up when I collapse on his shoulder, “I’ll take care of him. Go”.

The door closes behind him. I feel lost.

 

###  Armie

I should have never left. And the worst thing about it? I couldn’t really blame him. Timmy has some sort of history with Will, and...Will is there for him, even when I’m not. They are similar in age - he’s handsome enough. I don’t blame Timmy, not one bit...

I still wish I could punch Will in his smug face...but Timmy would hate me if I did.

I enter my apartment, throwing my bag on the couch and flopping down on the bed, fully clothed. I bought a pack of cigarettes in Florence -  _ only in an emergency -  _ I think this qualifies. I thank all of the gods that I’d already called the wife on the train because she’d know I’m beyond upset before I even said ‘hello’.

Anger evaporated the moment Timmy grabbed my arm - and its absence leaves me hollow….the world was turned upside down without my knowledge or consent. I pull a cigarette from the pack...I shouldn’t smoke inside. Timmy hates the way it makes a room smell...although perhaps that won’t be an issue going forward. Fuck it.  I will go downstairs to smoke...I could use some fresh air. I lay in bed for another five minutes - maybe ten - before I can gather myself to leave.

Under the archway of our building, I light my cigarette. I see a stream of smoke from just beyond the covered part and walk up. Of course, it’s Will.

“You are not going to try to punch me again, are you?” Will asks with a penetrative glance that reminds me of Luca. He’s wearing a dark cotton tank top, nylon basketball shorts, and slides. I feel like I’m in some gritty New York City, circa 1990 movie.

I bristle, “Tempted, but Timmy’d kill me, so...you’re safe,” _all things considered._ I hate having to ask, but I cannot help myself, “How is he?”

Will blows an expressive stream of smoke towards me, “Sleeping...cried out. I’ll play mother and make sure he uses a cold compress - but tomorrow is Sunday. You aren’t shooting. Timo isn’t shooting until the afternoon on Monday, either. Luca switched around the schedule a bit while you were away - you are filming with Michael; Timmy is taking me to Sirmione, to see Lake Garda”.

_ Where Oliver and Elio made their ‘truce’, and Timmy and I played in the surf and made out, hidden in a copse of fragrant lemon trees near the filming location. Timmy can’t take this...this interloper there!  _ Will laughs - actually laughs - at how angry I am. I regret deeply that I’d promised I wouldn’t punch him. 

He drags on his cigarette -  _ hand-rolled, pretentious fuck.  _ “I’ve known him all my life - Timmy’s the real deal...happy, curious, energetic - he brings life to every place he inhabits”.

“You don’t need to tell me this; I know Timmy,” I snap.

“Do you though?,” Will pushes off the wall, facing me down though he is not tall enough to do so, “You just accused the most loyal, loving man I personally have ever known of...what?  _ Cheating _ on you? First with Esther, then with me. Can you even call it ‘cheating’, considering your position?”

“I don’t need to discuss this with you,” I look away.

“Well. That’s true,” Will looks as though he might say something more, but reconsiders. As he walks away, he calls back over his shoulder, “Goodnight, Armie Hammer,” and disappears into the stairwell.

* * *

 

Sunday, Will makes good on his promise and they’ve departed for Sirmione before breakfast. Timmy isn’t here. I long for him - yet I don’t know if he’ll speak to me when he gets back. I think, with consternation, about the shooting schedule - we are about to film “Midnight”. It occurs to me that perhaps Timmy is good enough an actor to make that scene believable even if he hates me - but I’m not sure that I am.

Luca is impatient with the weather, with the timing of the different shots we need today, but especially with me. Nothing I do is right, nothing is ‘true’ - and by lunch I am ready to throw in the towel -  fuck the schedule. 

Luca has barely called ‘cut’ when I jump on my bike and head off down the road. I ride for 10 minutes before I realize that I’m biking to ‘The Berm’. Dammit - the day all of this mess began. I head down the embankment and wet my face in the freezing cold water. It calms me. I am so deeply lost in thought that the sound of Luca’s voice makes me jump.

“You came here. Of course, you did.  _ Mi dispiace  _ \- I thought you heard me nearly tumble down the embankment,” Luca regards me evenly.

“Luca, I…,” Luca holds up his hands.

“I know. That’s not why I came,” Luca stares out at the view, “Will...he is a talented young man,”

“Mmmmm?”

“Handsome, too. Very. Sea blue eyes - I have an affection for blue eyes, but only when the blue is,” Luca waves his hands, searching for the right word, “...complex. I enjoy complexity; I enjoy taking complex things apart...films, decor...people too. I suspect Will and I share in this trait - perhaps it’s an essential characteristic for a director, yes?”

“What are you trying to tell me? To leave Timmy alone?,” I snarl.

“Who said anything about Timothée? But - now that  _ you _ mention him - Timmy is an actor. He likes being taken apart, he loves the attention of it...he wants to feel...cherished, and he is innocent enough to feel that to be cherished is his due,” Luca continues to look into the distance, but casts a sidelong glance at me, like a professor who is waiting for his student to grasp a concept strongly enough to make it their own.

“It is his due - he deserves someone who cherishes him...all of that and more. You think Will can give him that?”, I ask quietly, afraid to hear Luca’s answer.

“Yes. But - so, too, could you. Armie, what you cannot do is horde Timothée. Jealousy. He is only just coming into his powers…”

“I’m not jealous of his acting - he is completely and utterly brilliant, better than I could ever be - once-in-a-generation kind of talent. And he’s willing to work like hell to get it right, too….,” I sound like an awestruck fanboy - but, where Timmy is concerned, I suppose I am.

“I know you are not jealous of his talent, but you resent when the demands of his talent turns the….the….sunlight of his attention away from you. Also, I believe you would prefer that the rest of the world appreciates Timothée’s talent from a distance. The Universe will not gratify you in either of these desires, Armie. Timothée is going to be a star...non-stop paparazzi trailing him and fans of both sexes clamoring to bed him. There will be no one beside him on the future red carpets,...so there will be quite a lot of ‘clamouring’, I imagine. Unattached actors fuel the imagination...lust, and speculation,” Luca speaks mildly, but his words carve my heart into ribbons.

“Timmy is not single; he’s with me...at least, he was,” I do not speak with authority.

“Armie - in the eyes of the world, he is a single man, just as you are a married one. I do agree with Elizabeth in one aspect - if you want to use this role to redefine your career in any way - you will need to maintain this fiction until the press tour is done,” Luca asserts.

“What am I going to do?”, I wipe my hands over my face, “...I want to be with him. I love my family - but when I try to picture life without Timmy, it just... _ it aches, Luca _ . I could barely make it through two days in Florence without him!  But my wife, she’s been with me through so much, and she’s PREGNANT. That is my responsibility...that is my care,” I look hopefully at Luca.

“Do you think I have some sort of...magical prescription to unravel this situation for you? I do not. And I agree -  _ your children _ are the first priority in your care. This will take patience - and what you will ask of Timothée will require a great act of faith from him. From Timothée, this is already possible - unless you destroy the faith he already has in you”.

“How? Luca - you know me, sometimes I think you and Timmy know me better than anyone ever has. I am going to fuck this up. I have ALREADY totally fucked this up. I nearly punched Will because I found them in bed together. Timmy threw me out; that smug asshole Will announced that they were going on a romantic junket to Sirmione today,” I confess rapidly as if that will make it hurt less, “Will loves him, Luca”.

Luca scowls; I’ve not learned my lesson,“You want me to tell you how to proceed, and that  - I cannot do. But - you must release your feelings about Will. It does not matter if Will loves Timothée; it only matters if Timothée returns these feelings - and to an extent that he no longer loves and wants you in the same way. Don’t fight with Will, it won’t endear you to your beloved, Armie,” Luca warns.

I not-so-secretly doubt my ability to do this, but I nod. I will try.

###  Timothèe

Will rents the car that takes us to Lake Garda, and the room with a single bed in the luxurious Grand Hotel Terme. I let him take care of things, the way I would in NYC. He is more experienced, worldly...and definitely holds far stronger opinions about such things. As we drive to Sirmione, the thought occurs to me that doing so now implies something that I am not sure I still mean - especially the bed. Will, as always, appears to be focused on the road, but quietly gauges my expressions and understands them perfectly. 

“There was only one room available on such short notice. I am not expecting...anything, Timo. Just...to be with you,” Will reaches across the console to pat my leg.

“We can still cuddle, right?” I cover his hand, instinctively flirting as I always have.

Will sighs very quietly, but then cocks his eyebrow at me, “Have I ever denied you a cuddle?”

“Never,” I reply. I may be asking too much, but perhaps it is my turn. Between Will and I - there is always one of us anchored while the other is at loose ends. Never both of us in one state or the other - that might beg a question that neither of us is ready to answer. Sometimes I imagine - when he’s a famous director with decades of movies under his belt, and I’ve given over the screen for the stage - we will be reunited in Manhattan and things between us will be different. 

The hotel is beautiful - modern and sleek. The bed is comfortable, large - I sprawl inelegantly across it and breathe deeply, taking in the scent of lemon trees.  _ The grove where Armie and I made out after filming - he pushed me up against an arbor and took me in his mouth - I came so hard that lemons rained down on both our heads.  _

Will snorts expressively when he sees me. He rips off his t-shirt and lobs it and the sunblock across the bed to me. I have a momentary pang of regret that we are here as friends when Will hands me an open beer, cues up  _ channel Orange _ , and pulls back the blinds so we can stare into Lake Garda in the midday sun. 

“Come on, you look like you’ve been shooting fuckin’  _ Twilight _ \- has it seriously rained every damn day you were here? I think you have more color in the City,” Will raises an eyebrow and looks me over very thoroughly. 

I pull off my shirt too, and my body signals it’s arousal. I sigh.  I’ve become accustomed to sex - good sex - and lots of it. My body’s response to shedding its layers is unsurprising but ill-timed.

Will, fortunately, takes it in stride - he seems to understand the complicated signals I am putting out and interprets them...charitably. Even if I want to do something in this moment, I won’t be pleased with myself in the longer run. I need to make a decision; same as Armie. Will is watching all of this filter across my face, avidly.

“Listen, my muse _ , _ there are maybe three actors today - in the whole world, stage and screen - who can do what you do: show every thought, every process, even demonstrate when two ideas are in conflict - through their faces and bodies,” he breathes.

“I’m not acting,” I protest.

“You do it here, I’ve seen you do it on stage - and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you do the same thing on screen when this film comes out,” Will tousles my hair, “...I’m saying you are destined to be a great artist, you asshole”.

“Poetic,” I toss the sunscreen back in his direction.

“Honest...including the asshole part. Now let’s get some sun, and I promised Luca that I’d return you rested - don’t make a liar of me”. 

“When?”, but I pick up towels and books and head out to the patio, ready to enjoy the day with my friend and leave the problems of Crema in Crema for a change.

###  Luca

Of all the aspects of making a film, the one I hate the most is actually filming it. I hate shooting a movie - everyone comes to you, asking a million questions, your mind must be in a million places at the same time. I hate it generally but today - today I hate very specifically. The best thing I can say about the day’s shoot is that it is over. We captured half of what I planned, mostly due to weather. I am irascible when I return home and Ferdinando silently makes us dinner and slides behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. 

“No guests tonight, just us,” he whispers.

“We have the party later this week,” I reply.

“I took care of it. Don’t worry - wine is coming, food is ordered...rest tonight,” my partner takes a breath, as though he was going to continue - but remains silent.

“ _ Iddio _ ! Out with it. I can hear the gears turning…”

Ferdinando frowns, “I was just going to suggest that you might need your rest tomorrow when Timothée returns from Lake Garda with his boyfriend”.

“Will is not his boyfriend”.

“Fine.  _ Suo ragazzo _ with whom he has definitely slept”.

“ _ Dai! _ ”

“Don’t be a prude!  _ Ascoltami! Già ha scopato quel tizio, e più di una volta _ ….and good for Timmy. Only now - we have a dinner party with both Will and his new...paramour, who is a jealous mess,” Ferdinando crosses his arms.

“ _ Cazzo.  _ You have a way of distilling these things down,” I sigh; Ferdinando is right. I can hope Armie listened this afternoon, but that is all. “Thank you,  _ amore _ . Thank you for taking care of the party...for taking care of me”.

“Someone has to…,” Ferdinando smiles.

* * *

The next day, the sun emerges and we shoot the scene with Michael and Armie examining the slides of statuary.  When Timmy returns in the afternoon, we shoot his sides, too - so that the light will be similar - even though Sayombhu is a genius at manufacturing Italian sunlight. Will watches us work from a respectful distance; he’s a nice boy and he has an eye. I do not even consult with Armie or Timothée before I invite him to our location shoot tomorrow. We are filming the waterfall sequence in Valbondione - which promises to be an exercise in trying my patience - and there is only one opportunity to get it right.

Early in the morning, we board minibuses for the drive, then climb - loaded up like asses - to bring all the equipment up a mountain. When we arrive, we hike - cast and crew alike - carrying equipment up through the misting rain. I rehearse Armie and Timothée several times - not just to establish the blocking - but to capture the emotional essence of the scene. Timmy and Armie seem friendly enough - although my spies (niece) tell me that they most likely spent the night apart. Timmy is performance is intense, dialed in...Armie, on the other hand, seems distracted - flat. I try talking him through the scene - by the third or fourth take, I may be yelling at him. I yank them both down the mountain, reset the cameras and promptly lose my mind entirely when Armie complains, right before the take, “Luca, I don’t understand what it is you want Oliver to show the audience”.

I charge up to my handsome leading man, shout “Imagine the possibility of the impossible,  _ stronzo _ !,” and punch him. He looks utterly stunned. I call “Action!” and we get our shot.

###  Armie

This cannot continue. 

I barely speak to Timmy when he returns from Sirmione, though not by my choice. Where ever he is, Will is two paces behind. At lunch - Ferdinando, Will, and Timmy are in serious conference about... _ shooting on film _ . Ferdinando takes an unseemly delight in the appearance of any alternative love interest for Timmy and it infuriates me. In the afternoon, Timmy films our brief meeting in the stairwell and his reaction shots. Even Michael seems eager to pull Timmy away. 

Meanwhile, Luca has adopted Will, allowing him to ghost behind - patiently explaining shots, demonstrating the effect of different angles. I hear Luca invite Will to Valbondione tomorrow and I push up out of my chair in disgust. They don’t need me here - so I go home.

In my little flat in Crema, I text Elizabeth - and beg off from a phone call, claiming sore throat. I put away the clothes from my trip, and return to the jewelry box in my overnight bag. Maybe I should leave it on Timmy’s pillow, but what if Will disposes of it instead? My conscience nags me that Will has done nothing to merit my suspicions; I admit to myself that I just want to see Timmy open the box. I want him to be happy - and to understand what I intend by it - that I love him and want to be with him. 

I wait for a text from Timmy that never comes. The next morning, I see him and Will in the stairwell, “I missed you last night. I thought we might have grabbed dinner”.

“We were a little tired from our trip. We had an early night to be ready for this crazy hike today”.

**_We_ ** _ were tired... _ **_We_ ** _ had an early night…’We’ used to mean you and me. What happened, Timmy?  _

He doesn’t look at me any longer than required. Will...doesn’t exactly look smug anymore...he looks... _ thoughtful _ . During the climb to our filming location, Will and Timmy tease each other like brothers about being City Boys on a hike. Timmy is flirting...but it’s almost innate - the bantering tone they use - and have used for years, probably. Will watches Timmy like a hawk - Timmy doesn’t even seem to notice. By the time we arrive at the filming location, both cast and crew are sweaty and grumpy - with the exception of the Boy Wonder and his tagalong - who remain unflappably cheerful throughout the day’s filming.

The morning is an exercise in irritation more than anything. Timmy is focussed when we are rehearsing or filming, but we are not making the connection that normally fuels our performances. We need to talk. I try to find Timmy during our break for lunch, but find Will instead, perched on an outcropping of rock near the falls. 

“Surprised you were allowed to tag along...Luca must be in a particularly charitable mood,” I snip at Will while searching all of my pockets for a smoke.

“Funny,” Will lights a second cigarette and hands it to me, “Luca wasn’t looking particularly  _ charitable _ when he reset you for the fifth take of walking up a hillside”.

“Maybe it is tough reconnecting with my scene partner when he’s still in Sirmione”.

“Alternatively, maybe you should give your scene partner something to react to? You are giving him nothing - you’re utterly flat or vaguely annoyed - he is acting his ass off just pretending that there is another human being up on that sorry hillside,” Will coughs.

“I’m not the one bringing...distractions to set,” I counter.

“Yeah, but Timmy’s not distracted. You are,” Will blows a stream of smoke in my direction, “I can’t imagine why?”.

“Timmy and I - we need to talk - but whenever I turn around, instead of Timmy - there you are! Like some sort of maiden aunt chaperone,” I attempt a sneer and am put in my place by someone who is a true master of the art.

“Armie, take whatever cheap shots at me you want, honey - I’m a native New Yorker and theatre people to boot, you barely register,” Will is frustrated - with me, maybe with himself, “Another thing - if you break Timmy’s heart, I’ll mend it. But remember - he’s not a toy; his heart isn’t meant to be played with”.

“Why? Isn’t that what you do?”

“No. Timmy and I know what we have. Also, he doesn’t love me like he loves you...not yet,” Will gives me a level look, and I’m at a loss for what to say next.

We return to work after lunch. As with yesterday, Luca is dragging my performance out of me. The extra pressure of needing to get it all done in a single take because the water can only be released once a day from the dam does not make Luca any better able to deal with my shortcomings. By the hundredth take of the climbing part, Luca has lost all semblance of patience with me. In response to my characterization question, he yells something inexplicable and punches me. Everyone is stunned for a moment - Timmy included. Luca immediately calls ‘Action’ and Timmy - instead of caressing my face when he runs back down the mountain - pushes his fingers into my hair and  _ yanks.  _ Between the two of them, I am shocked out of my week-long Timothée funk and Luca gets his shot.

 

###  Timothèe

It’s a long day’s work - shooting at the _Cascate del Serio_. There is the physical aspect of it, hiking to the location with equipment. I am grateful for my mornings with Gianluca when I ascend with minimal huffing and puffing. It’s nerve-wracking to think we only get one chance to get it right - although Luca de-escalates this a bit when he divides the shot into Elio/Oliver’s ascent and then the ‘release’. 

Then...there is Armie. He seems to waver between lost puppy (when we aren’t shooting) and pretty automaton (when the cameras roll). Luca wants to capture the elation of Elio and Oliver - together, alone and free to be with each other - the moment where their love for each other overwhelms them in the majesty of nature. Armie doesn’t ‘get’ it - perhaps no longer feels it and cannot help but show that to the camera. The scene isn’t working for me - we are so disconnected. Luca agrees - and now they are fighting. Will catches my eye between takes - observing today has been quite an education. 

We break for lunch and I hope against hope that some food will restore the general good humor of cast and crew. I slink off with Ferdinando, trying to avoid an argument with Armie for one more day. It would be infinitely easier if I knew what I wanted. Will made some trenchant observations about the nature of work in Hollywood - and what coming out might mean for my career there. If Armie and I had never met, there would be a minor eternity before I fell in love and wanted a public partnership that would force the question of my sexuality. There is even a chance that I’d meet the right girl and the whole question would be moot. 

I want to be a great actor - a great artist, as Will said. I won’t hide who I am but I can keep my private life private - at least until I am a serious relationship. Realistically, there is no burning need to declare myself now. Armie never said, “Be Mine” - he wants to ‘be with me’ - but only as secondary to his marriage. He never said it; he doesn’t need to say it - I’m young, but I’m not blind.

Will and Armie emerge from behind a boulder and my eyebrows register surprise. Will’s smile is slightly apologetic and - for a second - my mind goes wild about what they could have been doing back there. I realize as Will makes a beeline for me that it is far more likely that Will told Armie off than sucked him off. 

“Find your chill, loverboy - he ain’t my type,” Will links his arm through mine.

“Am I really this transparent, or do you know me too well?” I shiver.

Will considers, “Both. I’m a bit offended that you would suspect that of me, honestly”.

“Knee-jerk reaction - the two people I’ve wanted most in the world, emerging from seclusion together….”

“A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste. Pity that you need to get back to filming ‘hikes up a hillside, take 20’,” Will’s tongue darts over his lips and I push down all my frustrations as Timothèe and open Elio up to ‘love in the glory of nature’.

###  Armie

The following evening, Luca throws a small party - partly for our guests: Will - but more importantly, Andre and Peter, partly for surviving the Falls shoot. Cast and crew linger at the table, devouring course after course of deliciously prepared food from Luca’s friend, A----, the local purveyor or 4-star cuisine. Wine is flowing, and the overheated tempers of the past few days have mellowed. 

Timmy and I ultimately found the scene at Cascate del Serio - though the process was far from painless. In the end, instead of caressing my face, Timmy threaded his fingers through my hair and yanked. I felt a jolt between us - and Luca was finally satisfied with my expression when I turned back towards the valley. 

In the van on the way home, Will was talking with Ferdinando; Timmy sat next to me and fell asleep on my shoulder again. Even though we were both sweaty and disgusting, the scent of him relaxed me. He woke when we stopped in Crema, and I could not repress a hopeful smile. He reached out, our fingers intertwined on the seat between us and he squeezed my hand. 

“ _ Andiamo! Tutti vanno a casa  _ \- you have a long day tomorrow, get some sleep - both of you,” Ferdinando broke up our moment. Will cocked his eyebrow at Timmy, who immediately tromped off after him without another word to me. 

Today, we filmed Oliver ‘being good’ while Elio pushes, pushes, pushes - as he always does.  _ Like you, Oliver? I worship you.  _ The scene cut too close to reality for me. There was a desperation in Elio’s  _ I worship you _ that terrified me. Consequently, I played too much coldness in Oliver’s response  _...but no speeches.  _ The day ended with the lead-up to ‘Midnight’, some comic relief interspersed with Timmy’s torturous nerves over his piano-playing. 

Tonight, the cast and crew segregate by age, which is uncommon. By the time dessert and coffee are handed around, Esther, Victoire, Will, and Timmy congregate in the living room. Will takes over as DJ for the evening, connecting the music of a New York City summer into Luca’s theatrical speakers. We’ve all snuck outside to smoke - thanks to Will, running some drugs in from NYC. 

Esther grabs Timmy’s hand to dance, Victoire follows. Some of the younger cast present for volleyball and the Crema nightclub scene join in. The older members of cast and crew look on fondly - perhaps remembering their own dance hall days. Will cuts in on Timmy, stealing Esther away for  _ Hotline Bling.  _ But when Sufjan sings, “Ever since I left the city you-you got exactly what you asked for,” Will’s heated look is directed at my Timmy. It angers me all over again. One of the Italian extras twirls over to me. Will cues up the next song; one that Timmy clearly knows and likes. He doesn’t move away when Will slides in behind him, his hands on Timmy’s hips.

“ _Mi_ _dispiace_ , _carissima_ \- I must steal Timothée from you,” Will announces. He sings along, whispering the lyrics in Timmy’s ear, “ _Look, I want you to myself...but I know you just left someone else, I know you did. He did a number on you…,_ ” they rock together. Timmy grips Will’s thigh as though he was being taken from behind. The intimacy of the gesture breaks my heart all over again. Timmy closes his eyes and drops back against Will’s chest as they dance. He is high - his focus is on the song - but I cannot look away from the movement of their bodies together. I am drawn to him - to dance with him, to reach out and touch him - a week is too long. I lay my hand on his shoulder, and Timmy - eyes still closed - whispers, “ _Armie”._

###  Timothèe

Will pulls me in against his body, his hands firmly grasp my hips. I relax against him - eyes closed, moving our bodies in time with the music, as we’ve done so many times before. I feel Armie before I see him - but I know he’s there - his hand on my shoulder, come to steal me away from dancing with Will. 

“Sorry, Hammer. This song is our jam...anyway, I’ve heard you don’t dance,” Will is tipsy, certainly high...he looks Armie up and down with studied contempt. My smile falls away, I turn to face Will, my previously playful mood canceled by their incessant bickering. Armie looks from Will to me and nods his head - then walks away. I turn to follow him, but Will holds my arm. I shrug his hands away, but I do not follow Armie as he leaves Luca’s home.

* * *

I spend the rest of the evening trying to recapture the feeling of light-hearted fun that accompanied the first half of the party, but I do not fully succeed. My thoughts revert to Armie the moment I don’t guard them. I notice the absence of the pretty, dark-haired Italian extra from the nightclub scene who asked Armie to dance earlier and try not to read into it.

Will and I stumble back to my flat - we are both high, he’s very handsy - and under other circumstances, the night might have had a far different ending. I’ve lived with temptation this week, I haven’t succumbed. I wonder if Armie can still say the same? His expression as he left was unreadable - not the sad, longing of the past few days - there was sensuality, desire, and determination. I don’t know what it means.

I put Will to bed - alone - and sit in the lounge. I have spent too much time away from Armie - we haven’t addressed the problem that sent Armie to Florence in the first place. Will  _ has _ been a distraction. With him sleeping soundly, I gather my things and go to Armie’s apartment. I open the door with my own key - this time steeling myself for whatever lies behind. I half expect to see him poised above the beautiful Italian extra, driving into her body.  Instead, Armie leans against the casement window, his bare torso bathed in moonlight.  

“Timmy?”

“Are you...is there someone else here?”

“Why would there be anyone else?,” Armie looks hard at me, and his expression softens.

“Timmy, there is only one person that I want in the entire world and that is you,” Armie approaches me, his arms open, “Even if you never wanted me again, even if you choose Will - I’m not going to just fill my bed. I am almost stupidly faithful - I grant you, to two people: to you and to Elizabeth,” Armie’s hands run through his hair again, pulling at the blond strands with frustration. 

The flat smells like cigarettes, pot, and the green notes carried by the breezes of Crema. I try to pick out Armie in this olfactory jumble, but I cannot. He pushes the window open wider and I follow the motion of his arms. I want them around me, pinioning me against the wall. 

“Well, I’m the same. I won’t pretend there was nothing between me and Will in the past. But I am with you now - at least...I am if you still want me? Do you still want me?,” I can barely look at him, terrified that I will read only pity in the lines of his handsome face. 

Armie sighs, “I do. I always do”. But he doesn’t move towards me.

I finally muster the courage to meet his eyes, “Then what? Why won’t you...why won’t you touch me?”. Tears spill over, “We...we lost each other, I think”.

Armie pushes off the wall and moves in front of me. He draws up to his full height, his shoulders squared off - his whole body radiates command and control. His huge hand slides firmly under my chin and he holds up my face so that I must meet his eyes. His voice, when he speaks, is a banked fire - barely controlled, “Submit. Submit to me, Timmy - right here, right now. Submit to me and I will reclaim you”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very diligent amongst my readers will soon discover that the Drake song the boys dance to was only released in 2017. In the end, I went with 'this is the perfect lyric' instead of historical accuracy...and considering the invention of people and scenarios which almost certainly did not occur as described...I thought this is only a tiny sin.  
> Again - I will share my standard disclaimer - if anyone thinks that they recognize any real people in the telling of this tale, take a deep breath and wait for the sensation to pass.


	15. Mon Coeur S’ouvre a Ta Voix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to one another - and to set life without distractions and outsiders.  
> The title comes from Delila's aria in the opera Samson et Dalila: Mon Coeur S’ouvre a Ta Voix (My Heart Opens to Your Voice).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for joining me as I take the better part of forever to churn out new chapters. I love corresponding in the comment section - so please feel free to chat, ask me stuff, etc - and thank you for the love and support so far.  
> As always, thanks to my beta - Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy - without whom the update cycle would be twice as long and only half as good.

###  Armie

“Do you still want me?,” Timmy asks. 

I’ve failed him in so many ways this week. I will not fail him here, “I always want you, always,” my mind is churning - he isn’t ‘with’ Will, he wants me - there has to be a way to fix this. 

In the past week, I felt swept away; I could only see the million reasons why Timothée would be a fool to say he was mine, and Timmy is no fool. My emotions careen out of of control, terrified that I will lose him. My heart lacks discipline - and once I start I cannot stop myself. 

“Then..why won’t you...Why won’t you touch me?” Timmy’s eyes swim with tears, “We...we lost each other, I think”.

_ Lost...Lost...Lost… _ the word synchronizes with my heartbeat. We did lose each other. I want him impossibly closer, I’m jealous of anyone who shares his air. In the times when this thing between us is invisible, I feel erased and I hate it with every fiber of my being. But Luca is right, Timmy can believe in the invisible; he has a faith in me that I’ve never earned. 

_ Where is your faith? _

Timmy cannot always ride to my rescue, break down my barriers, be the bigger man. I should be the one taking care of him - cherishing him, the way he deserves. Instead, I hurt him. I am hurting him. I lost sight of his true age - only 20 - with all of its attendant uncertainties. Once, he turned to me - let me lead him, then I fell apart when he most needed my strength. We were tested; I failed. But he is here and it is not too late, as I feared. I know what he needs - what I  need to give him - to call back what is lost.

I square my shoulders and take control of the situation, “Submit to me, Timmy. You are mine - let me reclaim you”.

An endless beat of silence follows, then Timmy slowly slides to the floor on his knees. 

Timmy sighs, I watch his shoulders release. I step into his body, run my fingers thru his curls. My hands trace every angle, every plane of his beautiful face. The edge of his lip is chapped. His eyelashes are fluttering velvet, damp with tears. I touch his shoulders, his neck - pulling him towards me, cradling him there until the tension leaves his frame and he leans, pliant, into my thighs. 

“We can talk - just talk - if that is what you want,” I begin.

“No,” Timmy calls sharply, “I want you now”. 

I nod, exhaling relief that we are on the same page again. “Wait for me here,” I command him as I enter my bedroom for what I need. I notice the jewelry box on my dresser, and take that with me to the lounge, too. 

 

###  Timothée

I wear my heart on my sleeve, even when it’s bleeding.  _ Jackals _ , Will called them. “Timo, in this industry, those jackals will devour you whole if you show all you love,” it was our first grown-up argument. In the end - Will is probably right, but it doesn’t make a difference. I don’t know how to be any other way - heart open, even if it hurts me. And this week, it hurt me.

Armie was different - from the beginning, he was hungry -  _ starved _ \- for all the emotion I had to spare. If anything, he was afraid I couldn’t handle, or didn’t want, all of his. I did. I do - even when it was angry, jealous, wounded - if he is mine, then it’s all mine - the good and the bad. Once I start, I cannot stop myself. Love in a boundaryless form - I need his structure, his walls or it all flows away.

_ I’m a mess.  _

When he returns to the lounge, Armie is carrying his rope kit and another box. I am on my knees, hands on my thighs, eyes quickly cast down - but not before I see the avidity in his beautiful blue eyes.

Armie kneels in front of me. His voice is a controlled storm, “I am going to strip you naked then bind you. Don’t speak - nod your head ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Tell me if you are in pain and you want me to stop. Do you understand?,” Armie brings up my chin to meet his eyes.

I nod.

He begins with my shirt. To finish removing my pants - he orders me to stand. When I am entirely naked, staring straight ahead, I can feel the smooth length of rope between my legs. He works silently, binding me from my feet to my hips. When he starts working on my torso, he speaks - quietly - almost as though he is talking to himself. 

“We lost each other. It’s my fault. You told me how strong this had to be for all the times it would be invisible, but I didn’t get it. You were talking about faith - believing in something you cannot see, touch,...experience,” Armie pauses to grip my face in his huge hands. “You have faith in me - you deserve my faith in return,” and his mouth is on mine, his arms slide down to enfold me. I kiss him back until I can’t stop shaking. 

Armie holds me tighter, whispering into my neck, “Timmy. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now - let go. I will always have you - for as long as you want me, probably forever beyond that. I am so in love with you. You love so hard its shaking you to pieces - I’ll put you back together; you are mine,” Armie tugs on the rope laced over my chest, crisscrossing knots that lay flat against my nipples. I reach out to touch him and he grasps my wrists.

“You can talk to me - do you want to continue?”

“Yes, please,” I try to get closer, practically climbing his body.

“Then let me take care of you?,” Armie holds me slightly apart from his body and every cell and neuron scream to close the gap between us.

“I need you, need to touch you - need you to touch me,...I can’t..,” I am breathless when he lifts me together with the ropes and takes me into his room. He can lift me easily - it would be disconcerting if it were any other person, but it’s alright when it’s Armie. 

I can’t see where he is taking us. Not to the bed. The only sounds in the whole apartment are the whir of a ceiling fan and my breathing, which I am fighting desperately to control. He presses me back against the bathroom door frame. I slide my legs down. Armie gathers the remaining rope and loops it over the chin-up bar over the doorway. He grabs my arms and ties them together above me. “Hold the bar,” he demands gruffly. The binding isn’t too tight, but I can’t escape it. Before I understand what is happening, Armie has whipped the last rope through the loop in the single column ties around my thighs and pulled me up off the ground. My thighs are bound to my chest, I’m hanging from the bar - my legs bent and spread wide, my cock dripping obscenely. Armie drops to his knees and rests my legs over his shoulders. It takes some of the pressure off my arms. I am impossibly hard as his mouth moves over the joint between my hip and thigh, sucking hard enough to cover them in purple-red bruises. 

My body is burning, reflected in the pier glass - beautiful dissolution. He opens me with his tongue, then his fingers. I moan helplessly, calling on Armie or God, without being able to distinguish between the two. 

Armie stands, slicks himself and presses my knees up and out. The ropes chafe against my skin. I barely notice; I want him so badly. His arms lift - then slide me down his cock so slowly until I take every inch of him. I roll my head back, curl my tongue around a length of rope and bite down, choking with frustration. It seems like he will never move; I hoist my body by the ropes that tie me to fuck myself on his cock. Armie wraps a hand around my throat, I can feel his thumb press against my vocal chords as they vibrate in a wordless protest.  _ More. I need more. _

He kisses me deeply until he can’t bear it anymore and starts to pump into me. The suspension rigging allows my body to swing against him. All of my senses feel uncomfortably sharp. I smell the hemp bondage gear, the sweat that covers us, the cologne that lingers in the hollow of his throat,...my tongue traces over him; tasting salt and the wine we drank at Luca’s. His touch runs across my skin like electrical currents, swirling and eddying around the places where our bodies come in contact. I hear my body surging against his: the wet slap of skin on skin, Armie’s belaboured breathing an echo of my own, my moans and his. 

Armie fucks me steadily, holding me close - waiting for me to truly yield...the moment where we fuse. I surrender to him - open the floodgates and let down every guard. Everything is in his hands now, and Armie knows. He pushes, pushes,...harder and stronger for a few more strokes, we are both on the edge, “Tim... _ now,  _ my god Timmy come now,” he orders. An orgasm like a tidal wave rips through us both - so overpowering that I black out in its wake. 

I come to consciousness as I am laid gently on the bed.  Armie cradles me against his body. A warm washcloth wipes away sweat, blood, and semen from my chest and ass. He cleans me so carefully, as though I were something infinitely precious to him...kisses marks left by the ropes, and those carved by his teeth on my thighs, rubs arnica gel into new and old bruises.  Armie gives himself a cursory sponging off and nestles with me under the covers. 

“Are you OK?”

“Me okay,” I smile into his chest.

###  Armie

Timmy lies on my chest, drifting in the post-scene haze of endorphins. He and I have made the concept of personal space entirely obsolete. Not only here, but on set too. Luca has to remind Elio and Oliver to put some space between them, because Timmy and I could be pressed against each other every hour of every day and never notice. 

I run my fingers through his errant curls and muse. I have never been closer to anyone - not my wife, nor parents, siblings, friends. Something always comes between - even when I’ve pushed, there is interstitial space that I had accepted everyone requires. He doesn’t. He lays his heart open, pours himself into me and when I come to him with my chaos - a man on fire, wanting him to burn to the ground alongside me - he has never closed himself up, walled himself off. 

I feel him shift.

“Hey, you…”

“Hey - still me. You should take aspirin - suspension bondage isn’t...um...easy on the joints,” I wrap him tighter in my arms.

“You realize that one of us would need to get up for that, right?”

“That would be me,” I kiss his head, “Don’t you move”.

I return to the room bringing a huge bottle of water, the medicine, and the jewelry box. Timmy raises his eyebrows.

“First thing’s first,” I hand him the pills and water. He sits up obediently and swallows both, wiping his mouth carelessly on the back of his hand. 

I climb back into bed, bringing the jewelry box with me. 

“Do you remember the night, that night you bound me to our bed? You said to me ‘If we can’t be open with each other in here, we don’t stand a chance out there in the real world. This has to be stronger to make up for all the times it will be invisible’. I did a lot of thinking in Florence…,” I pause, unsure of how to continue.

“Looks like you did some shopping too,” Timmy prompts me, gesturing at the box I have in a death grip.

“I did. The thing is...I hate the times when this thing between us is invisible. I...it makes me crazy, and I know it’s only going to get worse from here on out - because when Hollywood realizes what it has in you - you aren’t just going to be an actor, you are going to be a star,”  _ his eyes are so green tonight _ , “I wanted...I thought maybe it would be...I don’t know...easier - for me to not act so completely insane like I did this past week...if you had something,...wore something I gave you,” I am staring at the box in my hands as I stumble over my words. Timmy lays his hand over mine. I look up.

“Armie, aren’t you going to show me?,” Timmy sits up a bit straighter and smiles.

I open the box; the gold shines dully on the dark blue velvet surface. Timmy’s face transforms from a gentle teasing smile to shock, then intense joy accompanied by tears, “That’s for me? It’s so..so beautiful. Armie!,” he runs the bracelet through his long, elegant fingers. 

“Will you wear it?,” I ask him. Timmy slides his fingers into my hair and tightens them, bringing our mouths together. Between kisses he mutters, “Yes, you crazy, beautiful man”. 

I end our kiss only long enough to clasp the bracelet on his bony wrist.  _ Mine. _

###  Timothée

Only once he’s put the bracelet on me, do I feel the true weight of it. I am stunned by such an expensive, beautiful gift. The design is simple, masculine: a heavy, flat, gold interlinked chain with a ID tag on top. The surface is blank, but Armie had engraved quotes from the book on its underside. There is one other touch - a nod to the whimsical - near the clasp, a round charm hangs, engraved with an E inside an O. 

“For Elio and Oliver. The opposite side of the charm is blank now. Maybe - once we manage to get things settled - we can add the A and T?,” Armie asks. 

It’s exactly what I would choose - had I unlimited funds. It is a gift of considerable physical and emotional heft. With it on my wrist, there is no way I wouldn’t think of Armie always, which is exactly what he wants. I reach for the bottle of water, Armie captures my arm and pulls me close with a leisurely kiss. 

“I want you again,” Armie smiles bemusedly, “...but I think you need your sleep”.

“Hold me? I hate sleeping without you,” I mumble, as though I’m talking to myself, “when we came back from Valbondione, I fell asleep easily because I could smell you next to me”.

We stretch out under the sheets. Armie pulls me gently into the circle of his arms and I sleep immediately. 

-—

Hours later we wake in the same position. The sun is already high - it is not quite noon. I am about to snuggle back into Armie when I realize that this is Will’s last day with us and I’ve already missed half of it. I drag my hand over my face and start to sit up which wakes my bedmate.

“No. Come back here,” Armie mumbles into the pillow, trying to pull me back into bed.

“Believe me, there is nothing I would love more.  But...it’s Will’s last day. I should take him to lunch - do you want to come with us?”

“I expect he will enjoy lunch much better with just you,” Armie sighs and for a moment I consider  trying to force or cajole him, but I don’t.

My limbs feel achy and sore as I amble to the shower. I vetoed Armie joining me, as I need to get underway - and if he is with me, I will stay until the water runs cold. My bracelet clinks against the soapdish as I wash myself. I stop to stare at it again, then think  _ Will is definitely going to have something to say about this. _

I towel off in Armie’s room, casting about for my clothes from the night before. Once I’m dressed and I have found my phone and keys, Armie comes to me - slides his hands down my arms and presses on the bracelet. We kiss and I leave.

 

Will is just coming out of the shower when I open the door. True to form, the towel is slung over his shoulder - leaving nothing to the imagination. I sigh to myself  _ nothing to see here, right?  _

He glances at me as he continues to pack his bag, “So, I see you have had a reunion with loverboy. I’m surprised he didn’t join you to send me off. Must be the best moment he’s had all week…”

“Maybe it is vanity, but I think I might have given him a slightly better one last night,” I counter.

“Of course you did, Timo. Any moment spent with you ought to be,” Will slings the towel around his waist and comes over to tousle my curls. His finger brush into my hair, and then start tracing down my neck. I am confused for a moment until his thumb tilts my head to the side and he hisses, “Timmy - what in hell happened? What did Hammer do to you?”. Will is pushing back my sleeves and inspecting my neck further. He notices the bracelet.

“It’s not…”

“Timmy.”

“No. Dude - it’s not what it looks like. I mean - yes, he did that but...I mean, we did that together. It wasn’t like...a fight or anything,” I stumble over my words.

Will frowns, “Timmy, we grew up in New York City - I think I’m juuuuust sophisticated enough to understand bondage as a kink. But he didn’t take it easy on you. Is it OK?,” Will is genuinely concerned for me. His eyes linger on the bracelet, “Or was Armie just claiming what he should know is already his?”.

“If I told you it was complicated….”

“I’d agree and I would still have the same question. Safe/Sane/Consensual - all of that? Yes?,” I nod, “Good,” Will replies - though he doesn’t look like he thinks any of this is good.

I try to explain, “It’s rope bondage. Sometimes I do it to him, too. I like it...it...it helps, sometimes,” I want Will to understand and not to judge.

Slowly, Will nods, “I am not shaming you for that - you know that, right? Timmy, I hate to see you get hurt - and I’m not talking about the rope burn on your thighs right now. I’m talking about the bracelet, and the promise that I’m sure came with it. Do you think it’s a promise Hammer is going to keep?”

“There wasn’t anything specific ‘promised’ - it’s just - something for me to wear, that only he and I will know is about us, for when we can’t be so public…,” I trail off - I’m explaining this badly.

“Mmmhmm. Oh, I see. Something to remind you and him - of who you belong to? I guess he decided a brand would be tacky...so good of him,” I try to interrupt but Will won’t let me,  “No. Just answer me this - while you go around with this massive... _ slave bracelet  _ on, what is Mr Hammer wearing to remind him that he belongs to you? Or is his wedding band just pulling double-duty?,” Will’s eyes flash with anger.

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing - but my face cannot hide how hurt I am that Will doesn’t understand or accept that Armie is a part of my life. Will notices - of course he does - and pulls me into a rough hug.

“I know. You love him. He loves you.  _ I know,”  _ Will whispers into my hairline, “Keep your eyes open, OK?  You give so much when you love someone, Timmy - one-hundred percent of yourself - you deserve as much back in return. Can Armie really give you that?”.

“He can,” I reply, finally returning Will’s embrace, but with my face hidden in my best friend’s shoulder, I wonder if Will is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is RPF - emphasis on the "F" - with characters created to serve the story. Not a documentary ;)


	16. On the Pursuit of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy and Armie prepare to film the Midnight Sequence - and Luca considers the problems that the original screenplay presents for his actors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I love talking with readers - in these comments, and also over on Tumblr at cmbyn-ghostspots . Thanks again to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy.
> 
> The Title comes from: Pursuit of Happiness (nightmare), MGMT/Kid Cudi

### Luca

I am watching the day’s rushes for what feels like the 100th time in our screening room when Ferdinando finds me.

“ _Amore, è mezzanotte passata. Vieni a letto,”_ Ferdinando slides his arms around my shoulders. When he notices what I’ve been watching, he drops into the couch at my side, “Ah - from today?” he gestures at the screen.

“I feel like...I cannot use this. Have I become such a prude? The light is beautiful - and Timothèe’s expression here - when he thrashes his head to the side- he’s cursing in three languages,” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration, “..this should be exactly right. Exactly what the scene calls for. This is what Andre wrote - Oliver taking Elio, coming inside him as he calls him by his name”.

“James made it a bit more realistic - but yes. Let me see?” my partner rolls back the tape.

“...here - he changes the line, just a little - ‘I want you’ not ‘I want to’ - but Armie’s climax rings true,” the longer I review the rushes - the greater my unease.

Ferdinando is watching the screen - the multiple takes, “It’s them. It _is_ them, Luca. That is why you are uncomfortable - you are watching an Armie/Timmy sex tape”.

“ _Iddio_ ,” I stare again at the screen. Now that Ferdinando says it, I can see nothing else. The ironic twist of the lip that is pure Armie - the way Timmy bows and flexes his body...even the repeated _Elio...Elio...Elio_ as he comes.

“ _Dai_! Did Armie just call out Timothée’s name there?”

“ _Merda_!” I rewind, “Yes, he did,” I smack my forehead, “I cannot even cut this together”.

“Okay!”, Ferdinando claps to tear my attention from the screen, “A different direction then? Do you know what this puts me in mind of? Those old stories about Hepburn and Cukor in _My Fair Lady -_ except in reverse this time,” he smiles and drops his head into my lap.

“ _Sì, - adesso parli bene_ ,” I kiss him - the advantages of being partners with another director and cinephile, “I’ll call Walter in the morning to recut the script. Jim, he won’t like it,” I frown.

“ _Allora_ \- James isn’t directing it, darling. He mightn’t understand, but...you’re planning on giving him _la pesca_ , no?,” my partner smiles devilishly - and, content that I can find a solution to this in the morning - I pull him up from the couch and take him back to our bedroom.

### Timothée

Armie flops back into our bed and pulls me down with him.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble again? We’re gonna be late - even though we don’t need to fuss with costumes today,” I don’t struggle too hard against him.

“Luca texted - he and Walter want to recut the script for the scene - he doesn’t want us until this afternoon, which means I can have you all morning,” Armie rubs his prickly face against my belly.

“Hmm. I wonder why,” I push Armie off of my thighs, “Armie! Later - c'mon, I’m hungry. Besides - it’s not raining today. Let’s get some fresh air - go for a bike ride or something,” I yawn and stretch.

“Bike ride we could do after, but you are far too skinny for me to delay feeding you - so, let’s go,” Armie grins.

I am suspicious that Armie agreed to a change of plans with such alacrity, but am too hungry to question it. I pull on clothes; he does the same - and we emerge into a peerless Italian morning.

We have breakfast at S-----, as we do most days, then head out along a country road that we’ve biked before. The air smells of freshly cut grass and last night’s rain. Once we are a few miles out of town, Armie hops off his bike and gestures to me to do the same. I am sweating buckets trying to keep up with him. Using the occasional Citi Bike has been poor preparation for all the biking required of Elio and Oliver - and it would take Lance Armstrong to keep up with someone as big and tall and strong as Armie.

“Look at that view,” Armie approaches a small copse of trees. I lope over to catch-up, looking past him.

“Where?”

He comes up behind me, slipping his hands into my pants and stroking my cock, “I was thinking right here, actually”.

“Very funny,” I gasp as he presses me against the rough bark of the tree. “Armie,” I try to make it sound like anything but begging and fail. We are still visible from the road. I hear the click of lube and start to panic, “Armie, we cannot do this here! Anyone might see,” I continue in a scandalized whisper.

“We are miles out of town and I won’t remove any more clothing than necessary,” Armie speaks so calmly I feel like I’m the one being irrational. He opens me quickly and with as little stimulation as possible and then pushes into me. I bend forward over the branch and spread my legs further. Armie is taking his time - slowly circling and thrusting as though we have the whole day before us and there is no danger of a tour bus passing or curious carabinieri stopping to investigate our bicycles. I clench down, provoking a loud moan from my partner, “Naughty, Timmy. Do you want this over with? Are you trying to make me come faster?”

I twist my shoulders back, so I can give him a calculating stare, “Who cares about you? I’m chasing my own good time, my friend”.

It shouldn’t turn him on but it does, the idea that he is nothing more than an instrument of my pleasure. It also means that he increases the tempo, which he wouldn’t have done otherwise in an attempt to draw this out. Soon I’m pushing back into him, my chest is scraping over the bark of the tree. Armie’s fingers are digging into my hips with bruising pressure. His arm pulls me up and back, while the other wraps around my waist - within minutes, we are both roaring towards completion. He comes deep inside me while I shoot all over the tree.

Armie is draped against my back - sweaty and panting. He slips from my body and wipes me with his bandana. I turn towards him, leaning back against the branch of the tree, “Is this why you were so into the idea of taking a bike ride?”.

Armie blushes. He adjusts my shirt and smooths his shorts back into place, “We spent all day yesterday naked in bed together - will likely spend the rest of the week in a similar state”.

“I get it. Something different,” I smile.

“Something completely different...and with a tiny little taste of danger of being caught,” Armie agrees. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for another kiss, “We should head back...it’s a few miles back into town...ah - do you think you can sit on the bike seat?”

“Oh, fuck you”.

### Luca

Armie and Timmy are biking back into town when Walter and I break for lunch, “Timothée, Armie - why don’t you join us for lunch at R------? I want to talk about this evening’s shoot”.

“Uh - sure, sure - let me shower up first. I can’t stand myself - you wouldn’t want to eat with me like this,” Timmy is bright red from exertion.

“ _Certo_. Be quick,” I nod, “Armie, wait - I want to ask you something”.

If I delay him long enough, they won’t get into the same shower and we will be able to have lunch at a decent time.

* * *

“So - let’s talk about Midnight," My leading men gather around the table - just us, no other cast or crew, “Jim wrote a lovely - but very graphic scene. If he were still directing, that might be the scene we went with...”

“But you don’t want to,” Timothèe states.

“No,” I agree.

“I thought what we filmed yesterday worked,” Armie questions.

“You have both watched _My Fair Lady_ \- with Audrey Hepburn in the lead role - yes? Good. Cukor had a challenge there - between the accent and Hepburn’s natural elegance - there is a film legend that Cukor had to cut away from her in the early scenes because she ceased being plausible as a crude streetwalker…”

“If you are worried about making it look plausible, Luca - it’s safe to say I know a good deal more about the...uh...mechanics of the thing than I did when you cast me,” Armie gives Timmy a flirty smile.

I sigh, thinking _Exactly._ I consider for a moment how to tell them ‘you look way too convincing’ - but that isn’t really the problem. Considering Armie’s obdurate streak - it will only make him more eager to use the nearly pornographic takes of him with Timmy. I hedge with a partial truth that Armie won’t suspect (almost certainly) and Timmy won’t question (hopefully).

“Armie, Timothée - the scene as we filmed it yesterday - it almost feels too intrusive. It is _too_ intimate - to let the world into the lives of these young men...Elio and Oliver...when you both give the audience so much emotional access, to show the..the...the mechanics of sex between them is...it’s emotionally pornographic,” I can see that this description has caught their imaginations, so I continue, “it's too raw, too unfiltered. It detracts from the love between these two men - and reduces it to the act of sexual congress. I do not wish this for Oliver and Elio - the act means more to them than that”.

Timmy speaks first, “What do you want to show and what do you want to hide?”.

He understands - perhaps too well - what I want to change. But he doesn’t question it - and I congratulate myself again for finding such an emotionally intelligent young man to breathe life into Elio, “Let me show you the script revisions Walter and I worked on today”.

### Armie

This week it is my job to spend up to 8 hours a day in bed with my...boyfriend. Naked. Actors say that shooting sex scenes is incredibly unsexy, and to a degree that is true. There is always choreography to it.  Ironically - a sex scene almost never requires that you let yourself go with your scene partner - it is the opposite. Despite this, it came as no surprise to me filming the midnight sequence with Timmy would be the exception that proves the rule.

After the first few days of shooting, Luca and Walter rewrote the scene, because -  in Luca’s words - it was “...unkind to let the camera lens dwell on the lovemaking of these two men. We allow it to bear witness to every other intimacy”. Timmy had a strange expression on his face when taking these notes from Luca - but he seemed to be on board with the new direction.

The next day, we do a reshoot. The first version of the scene was intimate, close. Luca pulls the camera angles back - it seems to relax Timmy a bit. We begin filming. The early parts of the scene are still fully clothed, which - in a movie where we spend most of the time half naked - lends a certain tension to the moments between us. The transition to the more sexual moments comes with the symbolic closing of the door on Elio’s childhood by closing his childhood bedroom’s door. Instead of firmly closing, as per the direction - my gentle push on the old wooden frame is caught by the breeze and the door slams loudly enough to scare everyone. Timmy stays in character - running to grab it - and we both giggle at the thought of being caught by Elio’s parents.

### Timothée

Luca and Walter come to us at lunch with some poetic, inspirational - _very Luca -_ utter BS speech about how they changed the script for the Midnight Sequence because it would be “unkind to allow the audience to witness their lovemaking”. While Armie and I certainly didn’t _actually_ have sex in front of the camera, I know that Luca’s reason is - at the very least - a bit trumped up. It was too real - I know the feeling of Armie’s tongue over every inch of me. We’ve made plain vanilla love dozens of times. Luca talks about showing an ‘x-ray’ of his actors through the characters we are playing.  This is more like a CT scan, each infinitesimal slice of our lives and our love together - immortalized on film. I am nervous - though I don’t share it with Armie - how can I keep Elio’s nervous wonder when he touches me?

The day we film - the early parts of the scene are very good. On one take, Oliver goes to close the door and the wind catches it, I run after it so it won’t slam, but it does and we both freak out in-character. I hope that is the take they use. It seemed almost symbolic. Oliver closes the door on Elio’s childhood - Elio tries to stop that door from shutting, tries to keep everyone from knowing and just fails, utterly. It’s a comedic echo of Elio’s regret the next morning. We are telling a story with so many beautiful layers...if I don’t fuck it up.

* * *

Over lunch, I give in to my nerves and call Pauline.

“So - we filmed the big sex scene - Luca was awesome and didn’t treat like a big deal at all - but then a couple days later, he presented us with a remarkably-less-sex sex scene...and I’m freaking out”.

“Do they still say ‘hello’ when they call someone on the phone in the States? I’ve been here a while - customs may have changed,” Pauline barely hides the irritation in her voice.

“Jesus - P - look, rake me over the coals for manners later. Right now, help?”

My sister sighs, “Will visited - it seems things have taken a small turn from ‘I kissed his wife in the rain and everything is simpatico’?”

“Pauline…,” I whine.

“No, no,...let’s solve the dilemma of how do you fuck him on camera. By all means,” Pauline retorts.

“Will...okay. Later.”

“I’ll help. What do you need?,” Pauline’s frustration gives way to her natural bossy big sister instincts and for once I am grateful.

“How do I make love to him without slipping into making love to HIM?,” I lay out all my cards.

“First off - you lose yourself in Elio a bit. Secondly - is there anything you can use from your actual first time that will trigger that feeling?” Pauline hedges uncomfortably.

“But we didn’t...not the first time - we didn’t go, y’know - all the way…,” I blush.

“Ack! I can’t believe we are actually discussing your sex life!” Pauline squeaks, “...but - why don’t you suggest that to Luca too? A...a...69 or something - to show that you are coming together as equals,” Pauline suggests in a rush.

“No pun intended?,” I grin.

“aaaah! Nope, can’t do this. Goodbye, _mon petite chou_! And good luck!” Pauline hangs up on me. So, I go to talk with Luca.

### Armie

After lunch, we reset to begin the ‘They Fuck’ part. Timmy and I run into each other in the restroom, brushing our teeth.

“Are you ready?,” I lean across him to spit into the sink.

“Ready to pretend I’m making love to you for the first time? Sure. Thanks for brushing your teeth,” he punches my shoulder lightly.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” I reply.

We return to the bedroom and Luca sets up the shot, describing the action to us. He wants me to remove all of my clothing since I’ll have my back to the camera - and he describes how he will pan away from the action when things get more intense. Timmy is quiet.

“So - we will be continuing to make love on the bed?...”

“...Yes, maintain the...audio. Meanwhile - Sayombhu and I will climb over the edge of the bed to make the panning shot out of the window,” Luca intones.

I grin and nudge Timmy. He gives me a quick smile and we set the top of the shot.

I am not known for it, but I can follow instructions. We keep the kissing fairly tame and contained. Timmy can’t get my shirt off, and I make it into a bit - which adds some levity to the otherwise serious scene. In one take, the blocking works very well - but Timmy starts giggling at the end, “What?”

“You called me ‘Tim’!”

“Cut!”, Luca’s hair - a reliable barometer of his frustration level - is starting to look a little Einstein-Discovers-Relativity-Theory. I rein it in and reset for the top of the shot.

By the fourth or fifth take, Timmy seems more relaxed - then he begins doing things...slightly unprofessional things that ratchet up the desire shown in the scenes. My necklace falls, and he curls his tongue around it. He is always in my hair until my cock is responding in a very unprofessional way. Timmy seems nonplussed. I am determined to get a rise out of him as well.

“What are you doing?,” I ask him.

Timmy smirks, “Gotta keep your head in the game. If every take is the same old, same old - Oliver will be bored of Elio and you might get bored of me,” he replies with false bravado.

“Oliver would be an idiot, and it is impossible that I would ever be bored of you,” I counter.

The necklace bit of business stays in what winds up being our final shot. This time, after I pull down my shorts and briefs and lay on top of him - he yanks me down by my hair. The crew climbs over the bed and I strip Timmy of his jeans and proceed to give him a reason to moan my name….well, at least Oliver’s. The crew is facing the open window, I align our bodies to profit from the friction against his semi-erect cock. I never hear Luca calling cut.

We catch a ride back into town and go out to dinner. By the time our meal is over, the rain has let up and we walk back to our apartments. Timmy decides he wants gelato, so we walk through the Palazzo del Duomo with dripping cones.  In the darkness of the ancient cobblestone lanes, Timmy takes my hand. I think it is just a sentimental stroll. Timmy catches my wrists behind my back and presses me back into an alleyway.

“What the hell? There is a sign that says video surveillance?” my eyes go wide.

“Shhhh,” Timmy whispers, pushing my back against the wall, “Broken. Anyway - we’ll be quick,” he barely opens my pants and pulls my immediately hard cock out, then swallows me down. He is using every single trick, and all of them are working. I whisper, “Tim. Tim. I’m coming,” and he hums his assent and swallows me down.

“Your gelato is melting,” he grins and takes a lick. I meet his mouth in a kiss that tastes of pistachios and me. He slicks back his hair, “I’ll see you at home”.

“Where are you going?,” I tuck myself back into my pants and try to catch up with him.

“My gelato melted, too. I’m going back. Later,” Timmy laughs and disappears down another narrow street.

### Timothée

It’s turned into a beautiful night - and I needed some air.  I pull on my headphones, turn up the volume. _...I’m on the pursuit of happiness, and I know everything that shine ain’t always gonna be gold..._ Ever since Will left town, my mind keeps reverting to what he said about Armie like the turning of a water wheel. That Armie cannot give 100% of himself. Will must have relayed something of his visit to Pauline, because she was no longer simply heckling my choice, but actively opposing it. All of this would be easier if I could just firmly deny that anything is wrong...but I can’t. Armie and I are pretty far from ‘actually okay’. Granted, we got through a bad moment, but we never try to fix our problems. I can’t think when he’s with me. When Armie and I are together, alone - all I want to do is touch him, kiss him - even when I’m annoyed with him, I want him to be within arms reach. We have so little time - I want to take it all with both hands to save for the lean times in between.

* * *

Perhaps this is all rushing over me because we are soon filming the ‘wasted time’ scene. Armie and I didn’t exactly take things slowly - but we have wasted so much time during the shoot because we didn’t communicate - or Elizabeth was there.

Last night, we ran those lines in my apartment - and I asked Armie, “Did you ever try to give me a sign?“

“Did you think I just flirted like that with everyone?,” Armie counters.

“Come on, man - you’re an actor,” I pull him on to my chest.

“OK. I guess that’s fair...truth be told, I think I was doing it almost unconsciously, the flirting, I mean. It wasn’t until our kiss in the orchard during Luca’s ‘first rehearsal’ that I realized how deep my body and mind were already into it,” Armie is playing with my hair as he reminisces.

“I had your body and mind even then?” I rub my face against his palm, “That seems impossible...and what about your heart?’.

“My heart belonged to you when from the moment we first met.  Do you remember - I burst into your piano lesson, and I touched you. You reacted like, ‘Hi, you are totally interrupting’,” Armie makes me laugh.

He continues, “I hugged you - which I would have done with anyone - but the moment you were in my arms, I couldn’t let you go,” Armie blushes, which makes his eyes turn a delicious shade of ocean blue.

“Well, I am glad of it. I keep thinking - ‘I might have gone through this whole shoot with so many feelings and all of them unrequited - I couldn’t do it’ - all the while, climbing all over you on set and kissing you. Kissing you would have been goddamn torture,” I thread my fingers through his hair and tug him gently to me.

“Absolute torture,” Armie agrees, covering my mouth with his own. We kiss for a long time - unhurried - not as a prelude to something else, but as an end in itself. Kissing him could be my new favorite thing.

After a long moment, I surface, “Do you realize that if we had been able to stick to the original shooting schedule next week would be the final week of production? Do you think we will be over by one week or two?”

“At least two, I should think,” Armie looks like he is thinking hard about something, but he doesn’t tell me what it is.

* * *

I’m back in the Piazza del Duomo - people are still sitting in restaurants, drinking wine. It’s a local scene - not a lot of tourism in Crema. I order _un bicchiere di vino rosso_ and watch the people come and go. The waiter, Paolo, is extremely attentive...and attractive...and apparently interested. I pull down my headphones and stumble through a few phrases in Italian. He tells me that some of his friends are going to a disco later, did I want to join them? I smile but say, “No, thank you - I have work early tomorrow”.

“Gelateria closed?,” Armie comes out of the darkness of the narrow street.

“Hey,” I stretch my arms overhead, “I changed my mind,” I shrug.

Armie looks like he would like to offer additional commentary on my choice of venue, and it’s choice of waitstaff - but he wisely refrains, “Can I join you?”

“Of course,” I gesture to the chair across from me, but Armie sits right next to me, facing out on to the piazza and drops his arm around my shoulders possessively. The waiter comes back - Armie orders a beer while playing with the hair at my neck. He barely looks at Paolo; I roll my eyes, “I think he gets it, Armie. You don’t need to maul me in front of the Duomo”.

“I can’t help it - I leave you only for less than an hour and already half of Crema is hitting on you,” Armie grouses.

“Well, it wasn’t Paolo who was getting head in an archway from me less than an hour ago,” I reply.

“You know his name?!?”

“Armie!”

“Okay!”

We finish our drinks in peace - without any more alpha male posturing bullshit - even when Paolo slips his number into the bill. Armie links arms with me as we walk towards our apartment.

* * *

 

_I’m on the pursuit of happiness, and I know everything that shine ain’t always gonna be gold...I’ll be fine, once I get it - I’ll be good._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fiction - any resemblance to real-life people is only due to their Oscar-worthy performance :)


	17. Is It Okay If I Call You Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another week, production would have ended, were it not for the rain delays. Armie realizes that there are some scheduling matters to which he needs to attend. Emotions run high on set for the 'morning after'. ....And communication is still no one's strong suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has taken this journey with me - just a few more chapters to go. A million thanks to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy, without whom everything would take 5 times as long and be half as good (revising any previous estimates on that front).

###  Armie

Timmy heads off to the gelateria, leaving me sweating in the darkened archway. I can’t anticipate his moods lately. He careens from pure romantic to porn-level sexual from one breath to the next. I can barely keep up. Sometimes I feel like he is trying to live the entirety of our relationship in the few weeks we have left. 

Exactly how few weeks we have together is what I need to investigate now. My original plan with Elizabeth was that she would return for the end of filming, and then we would take a vacation in Italy - potentially leaving Hops with Nikki and his family in Rome for a few days. I have been so wrapped up in everything with Timmy, that I never even thought to ask Elizabeth if she had changed their flights. As I walk towards home, I call my wife.

“Good morning, Husband….or rather good evening”.

“Good to hear your voice, Wife. I miss my girls,” I smile into the phone as though she can see me.

“We miss you too - all three of us. I can barely wait another week, Hops is really missing you too, babe,” Elizabeth continues.

“Yeah, so...about that….You know that we aren’t nearly as far along as we should be at this point - the weather has been a huge challenge,” I try to sound impartial.

“Of course I know. But it won’t be a big sacrifice to spend a few weeks living in your flat in Italy before we travel - it’s not like Hops is in school or anything,” Elizabeth’s voice has a slight edge - not one that anyone but me or her family would recognize - but I know I must tread very carefully.

“Sure, sure...the  _ only _ thing is the last days of shooting aren’t even in Crema - they are in Bergamo. We’ll probably stay over in a hotel,” I try to sound reluctant.

“Isn’t it only an hour away?”

“Depends on traffic, but yeah - the shots are mostly night shots though”.

“Oh. I see,” Elizabeth sounds like she’s considering more than the filming schedule.

“If you didn’t want to uproot yourself - we don’t know if it will be two weeks or even three of extra time needed,” I wince - I sound too eager.

Elizabeth’s reply is brittle, “Don’t you worry about your family, Husband. We can entertain ourselves - but a month is too long to spend without seeing our daughter, or having my husband sleeping beside me in our bed. Five weeks, tops - that’s our rule,” there is an undercurrent of anger in her response.

“Five weeks is too long,”  _ I’ve lost; she knows.  _ I stop walking back to our flat.

“About that, Armie - last time I was in town, everything was brand new with Timmy. I am sure by this time he is as tired of your snoring as I miss it.”

“What are you saying, Elizabeth?” oddly, using our names alerts me to how bad it is going.

“I am saying that I miss sleeping with my husband. And not just for the first couple hours of the night”

“But Timmy…”

“Timmy - if he is going to stay a part of  _ our lives  _ after this film - will need to learn how to share. He hasn’t really had to do that yet, but if he can’t….we can’t, Armie,” Elizabeth sounds sorry that Timmy isn’t a better sharer; as though he disappointed her at a playdate. 

I am speechlessly angry - but pursuing it now won’t help anything. I want to scream, to insist on equal treatment, to rail against her incessant control of every last thing - but she holds all the cards. My only recourse is silence, so I hang up with a peremptory, “Of course - goodnight, Elizabeth”.

 

I wander back into the Piazza del Duomo, where I find Timmy being chatted up by another handsome Italian waiter. No gelato. Tim is laughing his breathy laugh and mangling a few phrases in Italian. I am about to charge over there, but I catch myself - I’m angry with Elizabeth, not Timmy. I hear Timmy telling the waiter that he can’t go out with him and I calm down a bit further - not enough to say nothing, but enough to keep out of trouble with Tim.

We walk home together, arm-in-arm. It feels so perfectly right. Romantic  _ and  _ comfortable. I’ve been more myself with him than with anyone, and he is more himself when he is with me. I tease him because I know him, because I know myself. He wants to go to the club, dancing - with me.

“Aaaarmie, you could drink if you needed to - but I’d make sure you wouldn’t need to - not to dance with me,” Timmy teases.

“That is true - but we have a long day tomorrow if the weather holds up. Consider this a veto on behalf of our intrepid leader. Mussolini will have your ass if you look worn out and the sun is  _ actually  _ shining,” I warn him, pausing to burrow into his neck and kiss its freckles.

“Luca doesn’t get peeved at  _ me,” _ Tim counters.

“Not his _piccolo_ _principe…_ ”

“AND I’m supposed to be tired, because  _ you are supposed _ to be fucking me all night long,” Timmy pulls my face up to meet his.

“Well, if you wanna go all Method, I’m not adverse to the idea”.

“Yeah, I can tell...okay, let’s go home”

“What? You don’t know the status of the surveillance cameras in this particular archway?”

“Nope. And we are going all Method...first, the way Aciman wrote it, then James’ script, and then the inspired 69’ing of this afternoon,” Timmy’s smile slides back into fallen angel territory and I can barely stand.

“You won’t be able to walk, let alone shoot all of that bike riding, tomorrow”.

“That a promise?” Timmy pulls me into his flat and I forget tomorrow’s shoot and my earlier phone call - everything except the taste of the wine on Timmy’s tongue and how tight he feels around me. 

###  Timothée

We walk home wrapped around each other, even though the night was warm. He teases me, picks on me, even. But, it’s wonderful. We are comfortable together - in a way that I’ve never experienced outside of friends like Will, who have known me since childhood. I wonder if past lives are a real thing, because the familiarity I feel with him is impossible as a product of a few months. 

Once we are back in the flat, I crowd him against the door. I told him on our walk that I wanted to have him every way Elio had Oliver in the book, script, and movie, and I was only partially kidding. I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue while I undress him. He shows a strange passivity - he does not try to take control of the kiss or of me. It startles me out of my fugue state lust, and I consider how I want him tonight - if I have control. After stripping him, I move back - manhandling him on to the couch. I remove my shirt, but leave my jeans on and straddle his waist. We kiss again - slow drugging kisses that make him moan. I grind down on him, still wearing my jeans, so that his cock is pressed against the seam. My hands are in his hair; I feel his arousal twitch when I give it a tug. His hands slowly wind around my waist and hover over my fly buttons as if asking permission. I put his hands on me and he finishes removing my clothes.

Naked, we rock against each other. I tease and taste every inch of him, he does the same with me. Armie climbs off the couch and walks to the bedroom, I follow behind him. He lies down on the bed and hands me the lube, gesturing for me to do what I like with it. I kneel above him, opening myself with my fingers. The sheets are new and I can smell the lavender in the detergent - harbinger of sweet dreams. I lose myself in the sensation for a moment. Armie is staring up at me; his broad hands cover my hips, his eyes alight - they are never more blue than when he is aroused and I wish I could keep him in that state forever, just to stare at the colour. When I feel my body is ready, I roll Armie on top of me - a simulation of the first night in the novel and screenplay. He takes his cues from me - entering my body in a long stroke and moving rhythmically against me. I brace myself on the headboard, whispering obscenities. Armie pants above me, mixing a growl and moan as he lowers his body on mine. The night sounds of Crema fill the apartment - cicadas and a nightingale - and I fall silent. Our pace does not quicken - we are not chasing orgasm, but some form of deeper connection. I can see his desire, rising like an electrical storm around our bodies. I tighten around him, and see his shiver. He cannot be silent any longer; he whispers my name again and again. I wrap him in my arms, sliding my hands down the slope of his broad shoulders and back, to pull his ass cheeks apart and slide a slick finger into his body. He gasps, and fucks me harder - but no faster. I feel as though I am standing on cliff, ready to jump at his word. The electricity builds within me - and then I see, through the fog of desire, the trigger. I call out his name, and Oliver’s too, as if to tell him that none of this was performance, that I fell in love with Armie and Elio fell in love with Oliver - and there was great truth in every part of the lives we had intertwined all these weeks in Crema. He startled, but only for a moment - because he understood, as he loved me - the oneness between ourselves and the characters we played. That none of it was fake, and all of it was love. Armie came, whispering my name and Elio’s against my throat and feeling him inside me - impossibly hard and big - I fly off the cliff into a drawn-out orgasm that is almost a painful release.

We sleep for a few hours, then make love again just at dawn. Armie pulls out to come all over my face and chest - another homage to Midnight. I come in his mouth, my fingers pressed against the side of his throat to feel as he swallows around me. He wipes me down gently. We sleep again. When true morning arrives, it catches me unprepared. Armie is already awake at my side, his arm slung low around my hips, pulling them back into his groin.

“You can’t possibly want to go again?”

“I can’t help it - I was dreaming about the archway,” he raises his eyebrows.

“You weren’t asleep”.

“Fine - I was remembering the archway - it has this effect on me either way,” he nods agreeably.

“Insatiable”

“Always, where you are concerned,” and he kisses me.

Instead of progressing to other intimacies, he cools us off with the kiss. When we finally break apart, there is a worried frown creasing his brow.

“What is it?”

“Elizabeth is coming back next week,” Armie sighs, “I told her we were running behind - but she got...stubborn about it. Says it doesn’t matter if she has to stay with me for one week or three - she misses ‘sleeping with her husband’,” Armie finishes, exasperated.

I consider for a moment, “So, this is basically the end of you sleeping with me?”

Armie winces, “I will make her see reason. We can’t just…”

“Of course we can just - she’s your wife,” I counter.

“You say that like there is no alternative arrangement possible - which is patently false, given the last time she was here - I slept with both of you and…”

“Armie - she’s your wife. If she says you can’t sleep with me, you can’t. If she says all of this is over - it’s over. As long as she is your wife…”

“I don’t get any say in the matter at all?” 

“Of course you do - but you and I both know you aren’t going to use it,” I pull the sheet around me.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t…”

“You have a say: whether or not Elizabeth remains your wife. That’s the say you get. Anything else is just deferring the inevitable. And you aren’t going to divorce her, Armie. You and I both know that has always been true. So, from here until the end of filming - I’ll take what I can get,” my voice sounds resigned, even to me.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No. What?”

“This!,” Armie grabs my wrist that wears his bracelet, “Does this mean nothing to you?”

“This?!,” the anger that simmered beneath the surface boils over furiously - because this.. _ this  _  is exactly the problem between us, summarized, “Armie - just for laughs - what exactly does ‘this’ mean? That I belong to you? What do you wear to remind you of who  _ you  _ belong to? Oh, wait - I forgot. Your wedding band,” I drop his hand. Armie looks like he has been slapped, which would be no less than he would deserve. 

“The baby...if there were no baby, this would all be so much easier to negotiate,” Armie runs his fingers through his hair.

“But there is a baby...and babies take a long time to come into the world...and even when they do, it’s not like you can just pack your bags and go...what’s more, you won’t want to, Armie. You love your daughter, you are gonna love your son, too,” I am trying to keep a cool head; I know I can’t have him. But Armie keeps making these declarations...of course I want to believe him. I want to be with him - this isn’t just a showmance, not to me. But I knew, before any of this started, and if I didn’t know for certain then - I learned well when Elizabeth was last here. We are in the bubble now, but the bubble has an expiry date.

“Why is everyone so convinced the next rugrat is gonna be a boy?”

“You can’t even hide your smile talking about it...him. No, I like it. Whether I wind up with a girl or a guy, I’ve always dreamed of having kids myself. My dad was a great dad,” I pat his arm.

Armie smiles at me, but then a million other emotions cross his face, “I can’t lose you, Timmy”.

“You can’t prevent it from happening, either”.

###  Armie

He dreams of having children with whomever he winds up with - boy or girl. Just like that, the reality of our situation let’s go the flywheel and the gate comes crashing down. I am not who he winds up with - I’m not the future he dreams for himself.

“I can’t lose you, Timmy”.

“You can’t prevent it from happening, either”.

Timmy puts his arms around me, like he is comforting a child - then with a kiss to my hair, he gets into the shower, walking gingerly. I wonder now, was it just fun and games - method acting - last night? Or did Timmy know, the way he always seems to, that this would be the end - or close to it? Elizabeth’s impending arrival will change things - but the end of shooting would come regardless. 

I open a window and grab a cigarette - I don’t want it to end, and that is all that I can think about. This is the most magical time in my life. I’ve learned so much about myself as an actor and an artist. I’ve worked with legends like Michael, Amira...and soon-to-be legends, like Timmy himself. Luca has broken me and reassembled me on camera - but I always felt so safe. I’ve changed as a person. Crema is the chrysalis that I am not ready to break open and leave.  _ I’m not ready. _ I wish I could turn back time, to the first weeks of bike rides and gelatos, to music lessons and rehearsal kisses and the sense that I finally got my big summer romance. As if on cue, a text message from Elizabeth:  _ Hello Husband - flight details to follow, but Hops and I miss you dearly. We arrive via Rome, and Nikki is going to take us to Florence for a few days on the way North. But we are coming for you - will be there by our anniversary! (Do they have tattoo parlors in Italy?)  Xoxoxo _

I look down at my left hand - the wedding ring covers her initial, tattooed in a ring around my finger - each year I add to it, a vanity that many of my directors have lamented. The coverup doesn’t work as well on the hand as it might on a shoulder or leg tattoo. I suppose Elizabeth would say that was poetic justice - that I cannot hide I am a married man - even in Hollywood. I think back to why I started it in the first place. I wanted her - but I didn’t think I merited her, to say the least. She was unattainable - with another guy, and giving him the dressing down that would only lead to him on one knee. I knew I had to act quickly. Once I had her, it felt like winning the lottery. I was smitten and she eventually was, too. We were best friends - then lovers - and finally man-and-wife, parents. I inked my finger to prove the durability of my feelings for her, even when the marriage, then children meant sex was half as frequent and wholly vanilla. Even when the movies weren’t a big success. Even when the gossip columns had a field day with whatever idiotic mouthing off happened on Late Night. And now, even when I am desperately in love, but no longer with her.

 

###  Luca

We film ‘the morning after’ and within a take I see that something is wrong between the boys - but all the film knows is that Armie’s tentativeness is genuine and Timmy’s rejection is authentic and gorgeous. They capture nuances of regret that I was not sure were possible, as talented as they are. Small gestures sell it - Timmy’s hand on his belly, as if Armie’s cock has been in him all night long - which, realistically, it might have been. Armie’s small, hopeful smile - so different from the movie star megawatt grin, so soft. We don’t need many takes before we reset for going swimming and then the actual swimming scene.  There, again - Timothée’s cool rejection seems so true to life.  _ Are you gonna hold last night against me?  _ What happened last night? 

I am elated at lunch, the weather is holding - we will at least be able to film the aborted blow-job sequence before closing down production for the day which puts us slightly ahead of schedule. I huddle with my technical team while we eat, casting occasional glances towards my leading men. Timmy is picking at his food - more so than usual. Armie is hunched over the table; he eats too quickly, his food - he barely tastes. Their regular flirtatious banter is curbed. Armie asks a question and Timmy gives a small, tight smile and stares off into the distance. Soon he leaves the table, leaves Armie behind. I gesture to Ferdinando to investigate with Timothée, while I stretch and amble over to the seat Timmy vacated.

“Armie, you must be pleased with your work today?”

Armie tilts his head, “You are the boss - if you are happy, I’m happy, Luca”. 

His grin is plastic, with little joy behind it to sell it. “Yes, I can see how happy you look. Let’s not overwhelm everyone with the evidence of your joy”.

He bristles at the suggestion that he isn’t hiding his feelings well, but doesn’t reply - so I am direct, “What went wrong with you and Timothée?”

“Why does he have to enter into it? I’m a married man, I have a child - another on the way, I have a business...why is it assumed that if something is wrong, it has to be something between me and Timmy?”

“First of all, because of your interactions today. Secondly, because it is ALWAYS something with the two of you. It’s impossible that you should even try to deny this,  _ Caro _ ,” I try to reason with Armie - to pull him back from this dangerous precipice of emotion, to no avail.

“Luca - it’s fine. We’re fine, it’s...the scene work today.”

“My dear, you are doing fine work today - you are Oliver, right down to your toenails...keep it up this afternoon,” I run my hand through his hair and rejoin the crew.

 

###  Timothée

I am halfway to the cover of the orchard when Ferdinando catches up with me. On this production, someone is always watching...mostly Luca, always Armie. Today, it seems that Ferdinando has been sent to make sure everything is okay. I flop down under an apricot tree and tilt my head back.

“Timo - you didn’t eat your lunch,” Ferdinando sits down next to me with one of Luca’s apricots in his hand.

“You are gonna be in trouble. Luca babies that fruit like Mr. MacGregor in the Peter Rabbit tales”.

“You let me worry about Luca...I have a few ways of diffusing his wrath -  _ allora _ , get your mind out of the gutter, although that would probably work, too,” Ferdinando jokes, “You have done marvelous work today - you know this, yes?”

“Thank you”

“Then why the sad face?”

“Maybe I’m just ‘contemplating the possibility of the impossible’,” I arch my eyebrows and Ferdi snorts with laughter.

“One of Luca’s finest bullshit lines. It was! Well, almost - Oliver, in that scene - he had to think about loving Elio, without limits...and it made him...exultant - at least by the 20th take, it did. Now Timothée contemplates the same, and it makes him sad. Shall I insult your intelligence and my own by continuing to pretend I do not know why,  _ tesoro? _ ”

I contemplate confessing everything. Ferdinando has always liked me - almost in equal proportion to his dislike of Armie. He adored Will - the two of them were joined at the hip during the waterfall shoot. I’ve never asked the reason Ferdinando hates Armie - I don’t think it has anything to do with me. Probably Armie’s less than subtle worship of Luca. There are so many paths we could venture down, but it is probably most expedient to simply address the problem he was sent to solve, instead of attacking anything...thorny. 

“I know. But I also know that it won’t affect the shoot; I just needed some air is all,” I pause, “Thank you for worrying about me - I’m good”.

Ferdinando stands and grasps my arm to pull me up, too. “Timothée,  _ mon chat _ , I fear I may have to agree with your Will, Armie, he does not deserve you - ah, no - I speak out of turn. I know,” we walk back towards the set, arms linked in the Italian style.

“I didn’t realise Will was so free with his opinions,” I scowl.

“I watched him with you - he cares a great deal for your happiness,” Ferdinando hedges.

“He cares enough to know that - right now - he cannot be the steward of it. There are other things on Will’s plate,” I shake my head. Ferdinando inclines his own towards me, and Luca welcomes us back with a kiss.

###  Armie

I am less-than-elated to see Timmy returning to set, arm-in-arm with my number one fan, Ferdinando. We head upstairs, where Luca reviews the blocking of the ‘blowjob fake-out’. Timmy seems less distant than at lunch, but I can’t tell if he is really okay, or just putting on a show for Ferdinando and company. 

I am still irritated by my ‘talk’ with Luca. He criticizes me again for my ‘handling’ of Timmy. I am beyond ready for everyone, everywhere to get off my back about him. We walk through the blocking a couple times - mostly to get the camera in the right position so that you can tell I’m giving Elio a blowjob, without breaking anyone’s frontal nudity rider.

“If it’s actually in my mouth, would that keep us clear of the rider?”

“Yes, but it would also keep us clear of a NC-17 rating - I am not a prude, but I would prefer the film to show in art houses, not bordellos”

“Do they have XXX movie theatres anymore? Isn’t that what PornHub is for?,” Timmy asks.

“You watch PornHub?,” I ask, incredulously.

“No! But I mean, I’ve heard of it - I live in New York City, not under some rock,” Timmy looks irritated and perhaps a trifle embarrassed. 

We begin filming and I can tell, it’s going to be one of  _ those _ days with Luca about 15 minutes in - as soon as the bedroom doors close behind us. Luca comes in for a close up on my face.

“No. You were looking into the lens,  _ da capo -  _ from closing the doors, please,” Luca bites out.

The next take is not satisfactory, either, “Armie, you have been rejected, utterly. The audience needs to see that this man  _ will not be forgotten. _ Again.”

With this additional information, the next three takes go from bad to worse in rapid succession.

“No - first you contemplate - then you turn to the bed - you must take the audience with you on the thought process, Armie.  _ Da capo.” _

Another take, Luca has grown very still. He comes to me, “Where are you now?”

“Where am I supposed to be? Getting rejected by my lover, looking at our bed - trying to find my way out of this,” I explode.

“No. You are not in  _ this bedroom.  _ The lover is NOT  _ this  _ lover, Elio. This morning, you were Oliver - right down to your toe nails,  _ where is Oliver now?,”  _ Luca snaps at me.

“My toenails? My goddamn  _ toenails,  _ Luca? Oliver is here - trying to eke out this scene before the light dies. If you wouldn’t stop every damn take for another micro adjustment - maybe we could get through it,” the minute the words leave my mouth, I know I’m going to regret it. Timmy’s mouth is hanging open. The assorted crew members are all shifting in place.

“Sayombhu, if the weather doesn’t hold, can you look into adding lighting? Everyone else, please take five. You come with me,” Luca takes me by the arm into the Perlman’s bedroom and slams the door. 

 

###  Luca

Before I can take a breath, Armie shouts, “Don’t ask me where I am right now because I don’t know! I don’t know,” he wants to throw something; by the look of him, but then - so do I. 

I take a deep breath; say a quick prayer that my better angels prevail, “I do...I know where you are, Armie. You are in a bedroom in Crema - in an apartment that you have come to share with Timothée,” I sit heavily on the bed, “...and I don’t know what was said or who said it - but the very idea of opening your face and showing the camera your heart’s rejection is tearing you apart. But this is the task - this is what you must do. Can I help?”

For a moment, Armie’s face reddens and he bristles at my interference, but when he sees me - open-handed on the bed, he collapses into my lap like a naughty child who has been forgiven and sorrows over his fault.

“ _ Non piangere, caro.  _ Don’t cry...hair and make-up will have my head,” I smile and stroke his golden hair, “All of this - pain and anguish - take it, give it to Oliver. Let it shine from your beautiful face - the unbearable sadness of ‘he rejects me’ to reclaiming your power - ‘he cannot forget me so easily - Elio’s mind may be struggling, but his body will remember this’. Can you do that, for me?”

Armie nods and begins to pull himself up, “No, stay. Take a few minutes to collect yourself, when you return to set - return as our Oliver.” I hope he takes the lesson of this - and not only for what we film today but also for his relationship with Timothée, to call Timmy back to him - instead of pushing him away.

We make it through - I’m frustrated still -  it could be better on another day - but we make it through and I send the boys home with a short admonishment to Armie, “Talk to him - tell him about those things that truly matter to you. Speak honestly”. He frowns and does not reply - a bad sign.

 

###  Timothée

We return to the apartments. Armie continues past my door as if he doesn’t even consider whether he should join me. I stop him with a touch, and gesture for him to follow me inside. Armie doesn’t meet my eyes as he shuffles through the door - heading straight for my kitchen.

“Can we not do this? Look - Armie, she isn’t here now; she won’t be for a little while. I don’t want to miss a minute with you while we still have time,” Armie doesn’t respond. His bag is still hoisted over his shoulder. I am angry, “Well then - whatever you like - this….situation made playing regret easy as hell today,” I slip my hand under my jaw and wait for him to acknowledge me in any way.

“I’m sure Ferdinando gave you plenty of advice on the best ways to demonstrate your regrets about me. Must have been a red-letter day for him,” Armie moves to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer without offering me one.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t face down in his husband’s lap this afternoon - he’d have a more charitable opinion of you,” I reply.

“What are you saying?”

“Are you denying that happened?”

“I was upset, not sucking his cock...what the hell, Timmy?”

“You were upset?”

“Yes” 

“About us?”

“Yes - about all of it.”

“So you go to Luca. Not to me - never to me. It’s like - you still think I’m some kid who can’t handle anything - so when things get tough, you just fuck off….or run to Luca,” I start pulling things into my gym bag, if he wants me as far away as possible, he is doing a bang-up job of it.

“I tried to talk to you - and you had an urgent appointment with a fucking peach tree - and Ferdinando! Christ, Timmy!”

“So talk to me now”

“What do you want me to say?”

“ANYTHING - the truth, if you can manage it. Am I some sort of substitute for Luca? Do you even want to try to find some time together once Elizabeth arrives? Or is this it for you? You had your big summer romance,” I am nearly yelling.

“You know what - fuck this - I need some air,” Armie slams the beer bottle down on the counter and it overflows. Without another word, he shoulders his bag and leaves. I stand, staring at the door until the beer drip - drip - dripping onto the floor from the counter wakes me from my reverie. He isn’t coming back. I wipe it with a dishcloth, then throw the entire mess - bottle, towel and all - violently into the trash.

_ Fuck - is that it? We still have weeks of filming left, and...fuck. _

I should eat something - but the contents of my refrigerator is singularly unappealing. All of it reminds me of Armie. I grab my own beer and some chips “lime and pink pepper” - I roll my eyes and head into my bedroom.

Later - much later - I wake to a dip in the mattress. Armie’s naked chest presses against my back as his arms encircle me, “I’m sorry. I lost my temper,” he whispers into my hair. His breath, under the mint of toothpaste, smells of beer and cigarettes. He isn’t falling down, but he is a little drunk.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later,” he says and immediately falls sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work of fiction - based-ish on real people, but only if you squint pretty hard. Even Will...for those asking :)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr: cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com (or meta-lock).


	18. M'hai Messo Le Catene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy muses on The Peach Scene and Elizabeth returns. Armie faces the challenge of 'parallel lives' in real-time. Michael offers his perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos - keep me pecking at this thing until I bring it across the finish line!  
> The Peach Scene is a gift to my beta, who deserves much more for being an awesome sounding board and BS detector. Thank you!!  
> Title is from another Stornello Romano - (in the Roman dialect) - and it translates roughly as "You put chains on me...", which seems about right for the boys at this stage in the game.

###  Luca

They arrive to set together, but I am certain - knowing Armie as I do - that they had discussed nothing. Lunch confirms my suspicions. Timmy curls next to Amira, once again barely picking at his food. Armie appears to ignore him. But when Timothée is not observing, the intensity of Armie’s gaze startles me. It is a perfect parallel to Andre’s novel - Oliver’s cold-eyed stare that scared Elio - yet such coldness covers the desperation of his desire.

We film the breakfast and newsstand in Crema. I look over Ferdinando’s shoulder at the rushes - it’s good. The “I just wanted to be with you” line is equal parts perfect Elio and pure Timmy. It encapsulates much of what Timmy actually wants, I believe. Armie worries about greater and greater proofs of love; Timmy only wants to be near him. 

We break again for dinner - tonight we are going to film the parents’ love scene, the second half of ‘wasted time’. I find myself shamelessly eavesdropping on Timmy and Armie’s exchange as my crew prepares the shot.

“So…’wasted time’,” is Armie’s opening gambit, “A few nights ago...you never said - do you think we wasted time, like Oliver and Elio?”

“We took our time. I think….I think everything happened just as it was supposed to happen...in the end,” Timmy looks thoughtful, “It only feels like we wasted time because now the clock is really ticking,” he frowns, his wrist propping up his chin. He looks up at Armie under his lashes, the whole of his heart showing in the tentative lines of his face. 

Armie is caught by those eyes. I can see him trying to bring the metal gate down, close up the shop on his emotions, but Timothée will not let him slip away so easily. There is unbearable tenderness in Armie’s expression and also sorrow - an acute awareness of borrowed time. In the end, he takes Timmy in his arms and kisses him; he hides his sorrow with passion and his fear with desire. I hear the metal gate crashing closed in my mind’s eye and I have to turn away.

 

###  Timothée

I knew I would take this role, no matter what Luca had asked of me. Originally - the actor being considered for Oliver was...he had developed a reputation for going to extremes - drug problems, too. I considered withdrawing - but the universe had other plans.

With Luca directing and Armie co-starring, I feel like I am in the safest hands, honestly - I do. Throughout the shoot, there was one scene that really had me worried, and Luca had suggested that we might cut it anyway: The Peach Scene.

That’s how I think about it - The Peach Scene - in capital letters. One day - perhaps a week or so ago - Luca came to set with a definite bounce in his step.

“Timothée, the peach scene - I’ve put it back on the schedule,” he says without preamble.

“But...I thought…,” I begin.

“So did I, but as it transpires - it is not only metaphorical - it is  _ possible _ !” 

“And how did you reach that conclusion, Luca?,” I try to stifle a grin.

He walks over to his favorite peach tree, selects a blushingly ripe peach, plucks it and says, “In the same way you soon will - now, go home! Tomorrow I will see you - but only after  _ hai deflorato una pesca!” _

I leave the set on my bicycle, the peach and several of its cousins swaddled in my bandana, tucked safely away in my backpack. At my flat, I unpack them carefully and wash them, lining them up on the counter. This should be easy enough - I take the smallest one and contemplate how to remove the pit with only my fingers.

About an hour later, Armie comes through the door to witness me shirtless with three desecrated peaches, sucking on my thumb which I cut on the sharp edge of the peach stone.

“Am I interrupting something?,” Armie is red with the effort not to laugh.

“No! I tried with my left hand, I tried with my right - and I still can’t get the damn pit out without massacring the whole damn thing,” I sigh, “It is the least sexy thing I can possibly imagine at this point - and I think the last one gave me a papercut, but - you shoulda seen Luca today. Man is convinced, based on his own practical experience, that the deed can be done - so much so that he gave me a peach to take home!”

“Which one did he give you?,” Armie asks. I point and he plucks it from the counter, “Well, look at this big, beautiful peach...Luca has a good eye…”

“I’m not easily embarrassed - but I think you might have found the line,” I shudder, “Anyway, it might just have looked the most like your ass - did you ever consider that?” I swipe it from him.

“I’m sure you can do it...we just have to put our heads together on removing the stone,” Armie continues while stripping out of his shirt, “Jesus, I’m a sweaty mess - let me shower.”

“No, come here. I like the way you smell,” at the very least - it was getting my blood flowing better than the cloying scent of peach juice.

“Show me how you would open it...gently, it needs to be sensual so the audience can see where this is going, yeah?”

My fingers slide along the seam of the peach.

“Now, push in from the leaf-end, so you won’t hit the sharp part...sloooowly,” Armie settles on the bar stool behind me and presses himself against my back. The peach pit cracks in two.

“No - this is good. Pull it away from the pulp, first on one side, then on the other,” he slides his hand over mine and bites the clinging flesh from the stone, with his other, he flicks the button on my jeans which have become unbearably tight during his little peach-pitting lesson. I gasp.

Together, we bring the cool fruit to my cock and slide it down. With Armie stroking me, while burrowing into my neck, kissing and biting, I come in under five minutes, “Do you want to try? We have other peaches,” but he slides to the floor in front of me. 

“No, there is something I need to rehearse for this scene, after all,” and he takes me in his mouth. I think it will be impossible to get hard again, but by this time I should know better. He gets me off and I slide to the floor on top of him, rip open his pants and gag myself on his enormous cock until he comes down my throat.

That night was less than two weeks ago, not even...but it feels like a million years ago today. Today we film The Peach Scene, which - despite the funny predicament of needing to masturbate with a stone fruit - is, in many ways, the apotheosis of the whole film. It is the moment where Elio learns that Oliver transmutes the ‘sickness’ of his desires through love…and where Oliver and Elio open themselves entirely to the other, no longer fun and games.

It is also the day Elizabeth is due to return to Crema.

* * *

The first part, before Oliver returns, goes well. I take it as a good luck sign that the peach pit splits again during filming, as it did that evening with Armie. The business has been sorted when the set dressers come in and ‘decorate’ the peach for the continuation of the scene with Oliver.

All day long, Armie has been in his own little world - a bubble far away from anyone else at the Villa - counting down the minutes until her arrival, no doubt. This morning, I wanted to make love - he wanted to sleep. As a compromise, he came into the shower and sucked me off. When I reached down to reciprocate, he wasn’t even slightly hard. He slicked his hair back and rinsed off, with a casual ‘Later’, even though he knows we have run out of ‘Laters’. I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, then hurry to catch up with him at our usual  _ caffetteria. _

We are resetting for his coverage, coming into the attic where Elio sleeps, when I hear the crunch of gravel under car tires. No one else seems to notice, but they soon do when Armie’s little daughter yells up the stairwell just as her father is stripping off his shirt to blow me.

Luca is annoyed - although he tries to hide it - and we are all helpless when it comes to Harper, who - after all - didn’t know she would be interrupting her daddy’s work, pretending to kiss Timmy. Elizabeth and Armie embrace and she apologises for coming to set, but she didn’t have keys to their apartment. She’ll go shopping, what does Armie want for a family dinner? Nick flops down on the edge of my mattress and asks me to please relieve him of bearing witness to unconscionably early bedtimes and conjugal bliss in a way that suggests he knows what this is costing me. I nod my assent without thinking and suggest the restaurant on the Piazza del Duomo where Paolo works. Nikki gives me a lingering glance and I’m suddenly aware of my state of undress, shirtless - open swim trunks - nothing else. He grabs the hem of my trunks, careful not to touch my skin, and says, “if you look at any pictures of my father or other Italian men on the beach in the 80’s - they wear Speedo-style suits,” his eyes flick up to meet mine and Armie claps him hard on the shoulders with false  _ bonnhomie _ .

“Nikkkkkaaaaayyy - thanks for playing tour guide for the Hammily, brother,” Nikki drops my trunks and grins at his friend. 

_ What just happened? _

The Hammer Clan leaves and the crew reset the scene - Armie asks for a five-minute break, trying to recapture the spirit of a man in love who cannot hide his adoration any longer when reality just jerked him back like a dog on too short a lead. I can see him pacing in the anteroom, smoking a cigarette, which makes me cringe just a little. We kiss in this scene; I hate when he tastes like an ashtray. Luca joins him and sends him to brush his teeth. I can feel them both drill me with a look before he goes. Luca returns to the loft and sits on the corner of my mattress. 

“Sorry about the interruption. Armie...needs to reclaim Oliver before we continue, but he will not be long, I think,” Luca hesitates, then, “I hope it will not be difficult for you...to get back into character, I mean.”

I don’t say a word, but glance up at Luca.

“I have never seen such eloquent eyes on someone so young. At times I hardly believe all the things you say with them - sometimes I even doubt that you realize half of what you say...you are like a medium, speaking in tongues that your conscious mind does not understand,” Luca brushes back my curls.

“I don’t know, Luca. I speak English and French, a bit of Italian….a few words in German, some good slang in Yiddish, and a few prayers in Hebrew...if I were a medium or hosting a dybbuk, I think I’d have noticed by now,” it is my small way of saying,  _ I know the disappointment is playing out all over my face, but I am an actor. I will reign it in when you need me to stand and deliver. _

Luca considers my face for a moment, and I am certain he has heard all of the things I did not say, “Yes, I believe so. How does someone so young become so wise,  _ picino _ ?,” he embraces me, and whispers into my hair, “You will overcome this, too. Even this. You have  _ un forza d'animo _ ...one that he, sadly, still lacks,” I draw back in surprise and look at Luca’s face, “I love him well, and he has grown - in the weeks with us, he has grown. But I see his limitations - only remember that they are  _ his  _ limitations, and they do not signify anything lacking in you.  _ Ricorda questo!” _

I nod, and Luca hugs me to him again. It is the most demonstrative Luca has ever been with me and I soak up the affection like one the of hard Italian cookies,  _ ossi di morti,  _ that the Neapolitan owner of the local coffee shop makes just for me. I am leaning on his shoulder when Armie reenters the room and in an unguarded moment, he looks betrayed - only I cannot tell if it was by me or by Luca. He approaches the mattress and offers me a hand to pull me up. I go with him, to the anteroom. He paces back and forth.

“Armie?”

“I..I am sorry for the distraction,” he begins.

“It’s alright...they needed the key,” I try to reassure him.

“I...I need to...I need you to hold me, for a minute,” he asks in a low and plaintive tone, and I do not hesitate for even a second before wrapping him in my arms.

When he speaks again, it is barely a whisper into my curls - almost as though he were talking to himself, “First Nikki, then Luca - I know, I know it’s nothing...but you are mine and Elio is Oliver’s...and I just...the bubble is so delicate. I don’t want anyone else in. I can’t imagine how Oliver could bear seeing Elio with Marzia - it makes me feel unhinged, I need you so much,” Armie babbles.

I do not mention that Oliver just brought his wife and children to Crema; I make light of the situation,“You know - in the movie, Elio is only unfaithful with stone fruit...he doesn’t go back to Marzia, not in this movie,” I grin.

“That’s...true,” Armie holds me at arm's length, his strong hands crushing my biceps, “Dammit, Oliver is even jealous of the damn peach!”

“He is. He even makes a joke about it,” my grin becomes a smile.

“Yeah, he does…’moved on from the animal kingdom, you know that’s me’...he’s all ready for rejection after a mere two or three hours apart,” Armie huffs with a small giggle.

I laugh too, but I sober quickly and say, “Oliver should have more faith in Elio”.

“Across the board, he should,” Armie pulls me back into the cave of his chest for a precious moment, then releases me and returns me - holding my hand - to my mattress with a nod to Luca so we can film the scene.

 

###  Armie

Elizabeth made a delicious dinner that reminds me of home. Hops was in my lap from the minute I walked through the door. I used this to mentally justify neglecting to shower - when in reality I didn’t want to scrub the last of Timmy’s sweat off my chest. I read to our daughter and briefly fell asleep in the spare bedroom that we blockade with pillows to improvise a toddler’s bed. After an hour, Elizabeth woke me and we catch up while I finish the wine she used to prepare dinner. Nikki won’t be back; she booked him into the local hotel so they won’t all be on top of each other. No, she’s not sure how long he plans to stay. No, she does not know where he is tonight. 

Elizabeth begged exhaustion but when I take her to bed, her energy seemed to return. One whiff of me after I removed my shirt has her packing me off to the shower. And if I lingered there, hoping that she falls asleep before I return, that remains between me and god. 

Like clockwork, Elizabeth wakes at 2:15 to use the bathroom. I try to pull her back into bed and almost call her by Timmy’s name before I realized where I was and with whom. She doesn’t appear to notice and simply laughs when I relinquish her hand after she asks if golden showers are my new kink? Her last visit, this would have been the point I the evening where I leave for Timmy - but she let me know in no uncertain terms that this visit would be different. She tries when she comes back to bed, but suffice to say my heart just isn’t in it. I stay until morning beside her. 

The next night is more of the same. And so it goes, through days of filming that feel like torture, trying desperately to open myself as Oliver to soul-satisfying love with Elio - resenting that Timmy can turn it on and off like a light switch because when the camera stops rolling he closes up. 

Elizabeth tells me she has plans with Luca on the third night - something about face masks. Hops went down early, but there were leftovers enough for two - perhaps Timmy might like to join you for dinner? I mumble something vaguely in the affirmative and watch her from the window, crossing the square and entering Luca’s building. Baby monitor in hand, I have my key in Timmy’s door in less than five minutes, which is superfluous - because Timmy was just on his way out, dressed in those dark, tight jeans that make my knees go wobbly and a button down shirt in emerald green that makes him look like a male model. The surprise on his face lets me know that none of this is for me. 

“Elizabeth is with Luca - I...we have food, do you want dinner or...something?” my mouth is dry. 

“I would love to - but I told some people….,” he trails off because - behind me - the waiter (and actual male model) Paolo has just appeared, wearing tight bespoke trousers and the sort of shirt that seems designed to have anyone considering what it might look like crumpled on your floor the next morning. 

“ _ Ciao _ , Timothée...wear green always -  _ questo sì che è un bell'uomo, bellisimo, davvero _ . Perhaps never wear anything else,” Paolo gives Timmy an appraising look. I am stunned speechless.

Timmy slides out of the door, closing it behind us, “Armie - I’m sorry - I didn’t think...I didn’t want to interrupt your family time. G’night…,” his smile is tentative, he walks backward with his hands shoved into his back pockets, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the Villa,” and with that he and Paolo vanish into the stairwell. I can hear their laughter echoing as they race down.

My apartment seems even more empty on my return. I check in on Hopsy, but I can tell she is down for the count. I pour myself a drink before dinner, and flip through music on my phone - thumbing past any rap-related-Frank Ocean-Kid Cudi, or anything with ‘remix’ in the title and settle on  _ The Pure and the Damned _ . 

I text Nikki, who seems reluctant about coming by. When he arrives, I am well into my third or fourth pre-dinner cocktail. He tries to get me to eat and to turn down the music, lest I wake Harper. After 30 minutes of increasingly frustrated Nikki - I mention Timothée’s date and - to my mind - Nick looks less surprised than I feel he should. He tells me point blank to eat something because he has to go, and I have to be rational enough to take care of Harper if she needs me. He doesn’t say where he needs to be and I am too proud to ask. I wonder if he is meeting Timmy and the model waiter at some seamy gay nightclub - do they even have those in Italy? I apparently do ask this aloud, because Nikki responds heatedly in Italian, then asks me what century I thought it was?

After arguing over the music, and Nikki’s clumsiness when he knocks over my cocktail - Nikki leaves. I take a turn from manic to maudlin as the alcohol and music catch up to me. I can’t remember if I ate or not...I light a cigarette, then remember that Timmy doesn’t like me to smoke indoors. That triggers further dark thoughts. I hear Harper babbling in her sleep over the monitor and a crush my cigarette on the windowsill. I’d forgotten Harper! I open the windows just in time for Elizabeth to arrive back to the apartment.

“You are  _ not  _ smoking in this apartment with your two-year-old child, Armand Douglas Hammer?”

“Calm down, Liz - just for one second, I literally forgot and lit up,” my voice is slurred as I try to placate her.

“I will not calm down,” she whisper-yells, it reminds me so much of my mother that I shudder, “And where is Timmy? Weren’t you supposed…”

“Whatever...I don’t own Timmy’s time. Especially not now - he’s out, with Paolo - and probably another five or ten waiter/model’s or model/waiters...you shoulda heard him, Liz..’Wear green, Timothée...and wear nothing else -  _ bellissimo _ !’,” I stumble over the Italian.

“What are you even talking about? Who is Paolo?,” Elizabeth asks, and when she sees I can’t answer, she huffs in exasperation. I try to light another cigarette and she snaps it out of my hand.

“Timmy. Timmy did not want to interrupt our ‘family time’ - which is, apparently, supposed to run all night long, so come on, Wife,” I pull Elizabeth half-heartedly towards our bedroom. For a few minutes she appears to go along, but it rapidly becomes clear that, even with my gift for consuming massive amounts of alcohol, whiskey dick is still a thing.

Elizabeth sits on the edge of the bed, her clothes in disarray from my uncoordinated pawing, “You know, he’s dancing. He went out dancing because that’s what hot young men who are on the prowl  _ do, Armie. _ They drink, and they dance, and they party - and rub up against all the pretty girls or pretty boys...and pretty boys. He’s not even 21 - were you ever curled up waiting for the phone to ring at 21? So maybe it’s unfair of you to expect that of him - that you are entitled to his time. Because - more often than not - you will be apart. You have a family, responsibilities...but I’m certain if you planned ahead he could make a little time for you, Husband. You just can’t expect him to be at your beck-and-call,” Elizabeth gets off the bed and brings me bottled water and three Motrin, “I’m going to go check on Hops.”

Through the fog of my inebriation, it occurs to me that I never told Elizabeth that Timmy had gone dancing, but by the time she returned to our room, I am in the ensuite, purging all of the night’s excesses. The conversation is effectively closed.

Around 4 AM, I wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. More than one set of footsteps, then keys being dropped and two deep voices breathless with giggling.

“No, Jesu Cristo - you’re as bad as the other - I need you to be a good boy and drink your water. There’s a love...now let me take you to bed,” I am sure it is Nikki’s voice that echoes in the tiled hallway.

* * *

Nikki comes to set around lunchtime the next day. I am worse for wear and it shows, but by lunch, I think I can at least hold down some food. Over a steaming plate of pasta, I corner my erstwhile best friend and ask him about his evening with Timmy. He only talks about their dinner on the first night, and he doesn’t have much to say - other than Timmy has good taste in restaurants and better taste in gelato. I hide in the Villa’s attic and cry like a baby because he took him to ‘our’ gelateria as my mind unhelpfully supplies images of Nikki, pants spread open - head lolling against the masonry of the cameraless archway. Nikki wouldn’t. He would never do this to me. At the same time, I notice how protective...even solicitous Nikki is towards Timmy when next we dine at Luca’s. Nikki’s hand is at the small of Timmy’s back. He pets his hair to move it out of his eyes and fills his glass when it runs low. Luca told me once that I if I wanted people to admire Timothée from a distance, the universe would not gratify this desire. Today, I see how true that statement is...and it’s killing me.

###  Michael

Armie’s wife, Elizabeth, has returned to Crema. According to the original schedule, it should be the end of shooting - but the rain has caused many delays. The very last days will be just the boys in Bergamo, but there is a good week, perhaps two before then.

I arrive at Luca’s for dinner, where we share a rather cryptic conversation.

“Michael - you are, of course, planning to stay through the end of the shoot? You will be here for the wrap party”.

“I hadn’t made any formal plans, Luca”.

“The production company will cover it, of course. Plan to stay, yes?” Luca meets my eyes, and I am a bit surprised because have a slightly pleading look in them that I do not normally associate with our fearless leader. I simply nod my agreement and Luca lets out his breath - a small sigh of relief that un-furrows his brow.

When I see Armie, Elizabeth, and Timmy at dinner that night, I have an inkling as to why Luca asked. Timmy is effervescent - but it’s a sham of his real bubbliness. He’s hurting - the manic energy just below the surface is an attempt to cover it - but the attempt is a failure. Armie doesn’t speak to anyone, seems sullen and withdrawn - with his wife, with Luca, and most of all with Timmy. Although he almost physically pushes Timmy away - his eyes don’t leave Tim for a second. There is overwhelming longing there, and it hurts me to see it - because these two, for all their faults, have been very happy together. 

When after dinner drinks are being served, I go to find Timothée. He is on the balcony, overlooking the square, cigarette in his hand. Timmy is a boy-man who radiates uncomplicated joy 99% of the time, so it is doubly hard to see him so cast over in an abysmal pit of sorrow. All of my fatherly instincts collect in my chest and I want to go into Luca’s flat and give Mr Hammer such a dressing down that he won’t be able to stand for a week, but I keep it inside. I remember my dad, trying to tell him ‘I want to be an actor’ - but so terrified of his response that I couldn’t speak. He knew - he gave me the opening with the simple, yet effective…

“Timmy, a penny for your thoughts?”

Tim smiles and stretches his arm above his head, “I guess that still works here - ‘course in the 80’s it would have been lira”.

“You set the exchange rate - but your thoughts look like they are pretty heavy to bear alone - so a penny is a good value to share them,” I light my own cigarette and wait for him.

Timmy gives a short laugh that has little humor in it. He walks away, and I think our discussion is ended - but then he paces back towards me and leans against the cold metal railing inches away.

“You know - about...about Armie and me...and I thought for a little while that…,” he stops when emotion cracks his voice, in a moment - the tears spill over his lashes, “Ah shit, Michael. I knew what I signed up for - I guessed that it would hurt when it was over - but I thought we’d have more  _ time! _ ”.

“You weren’t expecting Elizabeth’s return?” it seems the safest place to start.

“Not this early, no. But - it isn’t really her - I mean, she’s his wife - his  _ pregnant  _ wife - I get it. It isn’t her; it’s him. He’s...pushing me away. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” Timmy is crying in earnest now, his head pillowed on my shoulder. I see Amira, talking with Armie by the door and catch her eye. With the grace of all the Muses, she skillfully deflects Armie from the balcony door and deftly draws the curtain as they walk away.

Timmy sniffles, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get all...maudlin”.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s a movie dad for?,” I smile.

Timmy pulls himself together and lights another cigarette. We both have wine in our glasses, enough for a man-to-man chat about emotions - which is to say, not much wine. Fortunately, the rosé is cooling in a basin by the door and has a screw top -  _ the modern era, even in Italy. _

“Look - Timmy - in the movie, I get to deliver the big speech that feels like it has all the answers. In real life? Well, maybe I’m just not that wise. But - I have been in this business for a long time - and there are a few things I’ve observed. 

First is - we have the most amazing job in the world. We get to inhabit other people’s lives - when most poor bastards barely live the one life allotted to them. Luca is a talented director - and he has brought out something in you and in Armie, too - that perhaps you weren’t expecting,” Timmy’s head jerks up.

“This isn’t just a showmance...I’ve fallen for my leading lady before, I know how that feels. This isn’t that,” his voice is quiet but firm.

I smile, “I could make this the standard issue lecture about the line between who you are and who you play getting blurred - but, I also trust you. If you say that isn’t what this is, I believe you,” Timmy smiles up at me and I ruffle his curls. 

He sighs, “I only want to be near him and he keeps pushing me away. My expectations were...minimal, but I...I also believed... _ wanted to believe _ that it was true when he said he loved me,” Timmy keeps his voice steady, but it costs him.

“Your parents must be incredibly proud of the man you have grown to be, Timothée. And for all that - how they must worry! You are smart, sweet...you care so genuinely about the people around you. And you are still young - and experimenting - trying on different roles is what you do to find what works for you. Just - not to be didactic - but, experiments come to an end. If this thing with you and Armie is more than simply ‘trying on’ the role of the hidden lover - if your heart, which is so generous - has become involved...then you owe it to yourself to decide if this will truly make you happy,” I feel tears on my lashes and I let them come, then dash them on the back of my arm.

“It has. At least, I think it has made me happy,” Timmy half whispers to me. I stretch out my arm around his lanky shoulders and pull him down into a hug. 

“Some people - they have ambition and little else. It’s immaterial to them whether they have someone in their bed at night, or if there is that person at night - they don’t need them the next day at breakfast.  Me - I always wanted my wife to be my partner, my best friend. Even when work separates us, there is still a touchstone of so many mornings waking up next to the person who will be on your arm come evening. Our industry is remarkably provincial about ‘homewreckers’ and the idea that people could have an arrangement outside of the binary one guy/one gal - well, that just doesn’t play in Peoria”.

“Or two guys, or two gals,” Timmy teases.

“We’ve made  _ some  _ progress - if you happen to be Ellen or Neil Patrick Harris,” I reply, “Otherwise, it’s still fairly unkind to actors who are gay. My point is: If Armie chooses to stay with his wife, you lose him. If Armie leaves his wife - you become the villain of the piece”.

“And if he stays with her and we have our own arrangement?” Timmy sounds unconvinced, even as he proposes the idea.

“The ‘special understanding’ as a third pathway? If it is exposed, the third pathway will become unthinkable because the world is filled with small minds. But - there may come a time when you find it unpalatable, too,” I feel like a doctor, delivering bad news. Timmy slouches against the building, then slides to the ground. I give a thought to my knees before joining him there - pouring us both more wine, and lighting another two cigarettes.

“You know - when I was younger, I started dating a girl - things were going well. We’d been together for oh - about a year? She wanted to move in together - I had a little flat in the East Village - long LONG before it was trendy - but there should have been enough room for two. So - she moved in. And then the fights started. They were often about my stuff - well, it had been my apartment, and you know the East Village...even the rats are hunchbacked - those places are small.

But - as the first year wore on, I started to realize that the fights weren’t actually about where I put the pasta pot or who was hogging the dresser...no. I was acting in a lot of shows, partying - maybe too much.  It wasn’t as obvious when we were both heading home to separate apartments, but it became clear when I left her alone one too many nights while I drank and danced with my castmates. 

Nothing ‘happened’. No one cheated - at least, I didn’t. But - my life in my apartment and in the New York theatre scene was already there - she was the interloper. And that is just how I made her feel. We broke up after 8 months - eh - on Broadway that’s a good run. But I left that relationship, I decided I would never have someone move in with me, nor would I move in with them - we would find our own place together. 

If you and Armie try to continue this thing - while he stays with Elizabeth, It occurs to me that you will be doing something very similar to what Jane and I did. You’ll be trying to find the places that you fit into the life that he’s already made with his wife and his family. And even with all parties agreeing that’s a fairly daunting task”.

“So what are you saying?,” he asks and I am silent for a moment, trying to craft a few sentence precis that will stay with him as he thinks about his situation.

“So what am I saying….I’m saying - in questions of the heart, think long-term. What feels good now might not be right for you in the long run. After people see your performance in this, Timmy - there will be a lot of offers coming your way. You could spend a year, or five years - involved in this thing with Armie and if you are lucky - no one ever finds out about it. But in the end, those are five years of trying to fit into someone else’s life, where you will always have to make the concessions because everything else was there first. And it’s five years you haven’t spent trying to find something to call your own. 

Look - it’s not for me to say or decide - and what you are doing right now doesn’t need to change, it’s nothing urgent. Just ask yourself the right questions to find what is right for you - because you deserve to be happy, Tim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction, any resemblance to real people or situations is..quite frankly...the result of a good guess, nothing more. :)  
> Incidentally - this is how I picture the waiter: https://www.instagram.com/p/BgU2DHlhwrs/


	19. I Put a Spell On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming at the Villa Albergoni wraps with Elio and Oliver's phone call and the closing credits scene, but the tension between the leads does not resolve. Armie is pulling away, Luca wonders if Armie will be able to show the openness of Bergamo. Timothée is struggling to make sense of his life in Crema without Armie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a final chapter count! What's more - I have the next chapter almost completed. I've seen so much beautiful, sad, passionate writing in this fandom - I am honoured to be a part of it.  
> A deep, heartfelt thank you to everyone reading, kudoing, and especially commenting along. I love interacting with readers here - and the comments have been so positive and encouraging - they are a bright spot in an otherwise challenging 2018.  
> When Senza is done, there are a couple one-offs I might throw out there. I miss the joyfulness of their promo season. If you are interested - please subscribe to the Later Peaches series.

###  Luca

_ Cazzo, Cazzo, Cazzo, Cazzo!  _  There are days on set where I fantasize about the alternate universe where I am only producing  _ Call Me By Your Name.  _ I would fly in to scout locations, bitch about cost overruns, and then go home to my partner - shaking my head about what James had to contend with. I am forced to remind myself that this film would perhaps never be made if James Ivory were directing. Still - on a day like today, I fervently wish the fantasy was my reality, because if it were - it would be Jim, and not me, who is charged with homicide of his leading man. 

To say that things have gone from bad to worse since Elizabeth and the child trooped into my set, interrupting the delicate intimacy of  _ La Pesce _ would be a missed opportunity. The expression is too pallid, too tame, too... _ colourless _ to describe the implosion of Armie… He may be having a nervous breakdown. I lack sympathy because his  _ esaurimento nervoso _ will be the cause of my own. 

If I ask him once a day “Where are you now?” - I ask ten times. I watch Timothée looking on with a mixture of shock and perhaps, yes...fear - as Armie and I fight with raised voices just off set. When we aren’t filming, Armie barely responds to questions - when he thinks no one is looking, he stares at Timo, as though he were the  _ mago malvagio _ I once promised Ferdinando he definitely was not. I suspect the spell he would cast might set the whole kingdom to sleep or a hundred years, saving only the handsome prince. 

Today was definitely the worst. We were filming the leave-taking on the bus - the boys heading to Bergamo for their long weekend, before their final parting. In reality - it will be the last day of Oliver on set for a while - we shoot the father’s speech next, and the winter phone call. Perhaps I can have the AD read Armie’s lines if this bullshit continues. But the boys still have to film the glorious, open love scenes of Bergamo. 

Armie is...Armie. We are supposed to see the quiet, reserved Oliver - opening himself, just a bit - to the Perlman family and to cling to the happiness of several days on his own with his love. Instead of the elaborate facade slipping - delicately - revealing the happiness in the heart of the man underneath...we see a different man’s facade: Armie Hammer, playing the role of “Nothing To See Here”.  We reshoot multiple times.

Right before we begin filming in the afternoon, I take Armie aside, “ _ Caro mio, _ what do you imagine Oliver is feeling as he is embraced by Elio’s parents?”

He looks almost surprised by the question, “Well,...good?”

“Good? Would you care to elaborate on that? I am not so picky...you can do it here with me in words, but I would very much like to see it on set when I say ‘Action’ and try to make a movie,” I bite out.

“Christ! What are you on me for now?” He snaps.

“A performance. And - to be clear - one where the actor Armie Hammer shows us the vulnerable joy of Oliver, ...I don’t care to see you performing as yourself, faking happiness. THAT is what the camera sees - all the camera has seen from you today,” although I start in an undertone, by the end - I am fairly sure I am shouting if the expressions of my crew are any means to judge.

Timmy normally stays far away from these screaming matches, but perhaps even he has had his fill of these antics, “I think Armie’s got it, Luca. Oliver feels  _ seen _ , without judgment. So - joy and wonder...um… Sayombhu doesn’t want to lose the light,” he ambles back towards the bus after briefly squeezing Armie’s wrist. I watch Armie rubbing the spot as though Timmy branded him.

It is never perfect - but by the time the light has faded, we have a combination of takes that I can use.

“ _ Amore _ , you need to talk to him - sooner rather than later,” Ferdinando is right, I am exhausted by how often this is true.

“Armie, perhaps you should come to dinner tonight,” I aim for a conciliatory tone. 

“I’d love to Luca, but...Elizabeth. Tonight is our anniversary dinner in Milan…”

###  Timothée

It’s no good. Michael watches - concerned. He spoke his piece and does not want to speak again, but I can see that instinctive silence warring with the urge to offer advice, or at least comfort me. Nick treats me like an errant little brother - if the bigger brother had international spy connections. He wasn’t present when I made plans with Paolo, the waiter - who is actually a model - from the cafe near the Duomo, but somehow - Nick materialized out of thin air at the nightclub and took me home when kissing Paolo looked like it might take a more serious turn. I suppose I should be grateful. I don’t know if I was ready to sleep with someone new; there was a better-than-average chance that the whole thing would have just been horribly awkward. Still - better I should hook up with Paolo than hit on Nikki - which I may have done at some point between leaving the club and being put to bed, naked and horny, by Armie’s handsome, Italian, multi-lingual best friend. I console myself that - at the very least - if nothing happened between us, it’s not because Nick felt disinclined - even I have noticed his attention on me - but because he is not disloyal to Armie.

Fucking Armie. Luca and Armie are wrapped up in their own conflict - at times, I think they barely notice me. Since the arrival of his family, Armie has only reached out to me once - 60 seconds before Paolo arrived to take me dancing. He doesn’t say anything as we leave, but if his condition the next morning is any indicator - Armie reacted poorly to the idea of me leading my own life - apart from him. We absolutely need to talk - but he has been assiduously avoiding me since that night. 

I don’t know what to do anymore - other than use it. So, as Michael-as-Samuel sits me down to talk about Elio and Oliver’s ‘nice friendship - maybe more than a friendship’ - I think of him and the tears come, more easily than ever before in my career.  During the ‘goodbye’ scene in Crema, I try to stay present in the scene but Armie is so out-of-character, that my Elio has a bite of impatience. Oliver exchanges his facade of coldness for Armie’s of laissez-faire.

The night of The Speech, Armie sends me a text message:

**A: Elizabeth is at Luca’s again. Hops is spending the night with Uncle Nikki. Are you busy?**

I stare at the message, scroll back through the history of our texts, and wonder how to respond for at least 30 minutes. Perhaps she’s returned in the interim? I decide to let fate sort it out.

_ T: I am home - door is unlocked. _

I should be flattered - he enters my flat in less than 5 minutes. He closes the door behind him and leans against it - surveying the room as though he expects someone to jump out of the couch upholstery - he looks at everything except me. 

“Did you want to come over to make sure you didn’t leave anything?” I want to talk, but I am finding it increasingly difficult to make this easy for him. 

“Did I want what? ...you’re alone?” Armie finally looks at me - and, though he is standing on dry land - his eyes are those of a drowning man.

I bite back my initial response, which was going to be along the lines of,  _ No - I invited you over to watch me fuck Paolo, do you mind?  _  - instead, I simply shrug my shoulders as if to say ‘who else would be here?’.

“I...do you...Jesus, Timmy,” in three paces he has crossed the room, collapsed to his knees before me and buried his head in my lap. His white cotton t-shirt stretches across his heaving shoulders - he breathes in gulps, my hands hover above him. I don’t understand this reaction - it was him, not me, who pushed me away all these days. I settle one hand in his hair and the other on his back. He is shaking.

“Armie?”

“I thought I could figure this out...but it’s awful. I wanted to throttle that...waiter, I even suspected….that you and Nikki….you are MINE, no one else can have you,” he looks up at me - Armie is  _ angry.  _ I was nearly in tears, thinking he was in pain - his anger directed at me dries them immediately.

I tighten my grip on his hair and turn his head towards the wall, “Do you see that wall? Our apartments share it. Meaning when you fuck Elizabeth on the sofa, or...I dunno...over the bathroom vanity?  _ I can hear EVERYTHING!”  _ I shove him away, “Every time she moans your name or calls the man I’ve let inside my body and my heart ‘baby’...everything...I can hear everything, and if you didn’t realize this, I can assure you - she did,” I stand and run my fingers through my curls. “So, if you did hear Paolo calling me a god or even Nick taking his sweet-assed time stripping me naked to put me to bed, it would be no more than you deserve,” I shout.

Armie is still shaking - but this time I think he is going to cry. 

“My life and your life won’t intersect often….I have to live without you. These are your rules - it’s not my choice. So….You have to let me live my life and I can’t spend the rest of it wishing for you in my flat, in my bed, in my arms...because we both know you won’t be there,” I break down.

Armie is crying, too. He wraps me in his arms and kisses me through our tears. There is a vague echo in the back of my mind, saying,  _ Wait! You talked; he didn’t - you need to understand each other before...anything!  _ ...but it remains only an echo when our lips touch. Our kissing turns frenzied, tinged with salt - he breaks open my jeans and pushes me over the back of the couch. His tongue slides from the dip of my back into the crevice below. He fucks me with his tongue until I am gasping, then he turns me over and swallows around my cock as I come.

When I have recovered enough to suggest that I return the favor, Armie actually blushes like he didn’t just have his tongue in my ass, “Um...you kinda already did,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gestures towards me. My legs and jeans are covered in ejaculate, so are Armie’s clothes.

“I was so hard, I had to open my jeans...and I started rubbing against your calves while I was rimming you and it kind of...just happened,” he rests back on his heels.

I reach down to pull him up, “Come on, let me give you something to wear - I’ll wash these,” we head into the bathroom and I turn the shower on. By the time the bathroom is steamy, we are both hard again and I move to take him against the sandstone tile. My conditioner will serve as lubricant, but I also use a condom. Armie looks hurt, but if we aren’t going to be exclusive - then this should be how it goes between us. When we are finished, I wash away the semen and just hold him under the spray.

We dry off and Armie is pulling on my sweatpants and t-shirt. I take his other clothes and bring them to the hamper. His phone pings, I pull it from his pocket to see a message from Elizabeth on the lock screen

_ E: I’ll be home in 30 minutes or so, Husband. Luca was explaining some of the finer points of Body Double...I hope you are ready! :P _

I wish we hadn’t showered and I could send him home reeking of me. Armie is in my bedroom. I put his phone on the dresser and pull down his pants to expose his cock, “What are you trying to do to me?” he whispers.

“Nothing,” I smile my least innocent smile and suck one of his balls into my mouth. Impossibly, I get him hard again. I make short work of his arousal, twisting his nipples and pressing into him with my fingers to work his prostate. He’s nearly dry when he comes. I push up from the bed and walk over to the dresser, still naked and half-hard. He holds out his arms for me, but instead of laying down with him, I toss him his phone, “You’d better go, Elizabeth is coming home soon and sounds like she’s horny from watching  _ Body Double _ with Luca,” Armie groans - and not in a happy way, “Hope your refractory period isn’t too long - wouldn’t want to disappoint, ‘ _ Husband’,”  _ I smirk, we both know there is no way in hell he will be able to get hard again tonight...especially not for her. 

“You knew,” he almost looks relieved. 

“Yup,” I lay down on him, pressing my sweaty torso against his, “Better hurry home.” And I roll off with a kiss, then slowly start stroking myself and watch him devour me with his eyes. 

* * *

The next day, we film the final phone call between Elio and Oliver. Luca was considering having our AD read Oliver’s lines to me - but when we rolled up on our bikes together - he decided to record Oliver from the bedroom upstairs. I am glad he did. So much of this experience is 100% about him and I. I need him to complete it.

We film the intro section, green screening the doors to add in the snow in post. By afternoon, we are ready to film the phone call. Armie comes to me at lunch

“After last night, I can’t tell if you are avoiding me or just staying in character,” Armie bumps my shoulder. It’s more attention and affection than I’ve had from him since Elizabeth arrived, and I mentally kick myself for soaking it in.

“I should avoid you, I think. These scenes are going to be difficult,” I shrug. 

Armie leans into my side, “I should let you be, then. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about coming all over your legs while I rimmed you...or the shower, or the bed after. God, Timmy - I was worse than useless when I got home.”

I sit up, disconnecting our shoulders, “Definitely not - but maybe I should think of you, returning to your wife, no matter how many ways we loved each other - to the point of exhaustion - last night,” I turn to go to catering.

“Timmy…,” for a second, Armie’s face is open, pleading.

“No, thank you,...Oliver,” I walk away.

Lunch was my favorite - courtesy of Ferdinando, who remains ever watchful of my eating habits since that day in the orchard. It tasted like sawdust.

* * *

We reset for the phone call - Luca explains how the shot will work: Armie is upstairs, talking to me on a closed line, which will be recorded by the sound guys. I close my eyes and let Elio in. Luca calls action and I pick up the ringing phone.

 

**Elio**

Hi, how are you?....I miss you.

**Oliver**

I miss you, too...very much. I have some news.

 

_ And isn’t it true? We were together just last night, but I still miss you...and will go on missing you, even when you are there - because you are always one text away from leaving, again. _

 

**Elio**

News? Oh - you are getting married, I suppose?

**Oliver**

I might be getting married next spring, yeah.

**Elio**

You never said anything.

**Oliver**

It’s been...off and on for two years.

**Elio**

That’s wonderful news.

**Oliver**

Do you mind?”

 

_ I thought I wouldn’t mind...but I do. I do mind, desperately. I knew you were never mine, but I let go with you and without willing it, without wanting it - now, I’m yours. I’m yours without wanting it - and you aren’t mine, will never be mine. _

…..

 

**Elio**

They know about us.

**Oliver**

I figured.

**Elio**

How?

**Oliver**

Well, from the way your dad spoke to me...he made me feel like I was part of the family...almost like a son-in-law. You are so lucky, my father would have carted me off to a correctional facility.

 

_ Armie’s voice embroiders the words with pain and a depth of bitterness that can only come from experience. Not for the first time, I think ‘what has Luca done here?’ - part movie, part documentary - ‘an x-ray of his actors’ - but it isn’t. It’s vivisection without anesthesia.  _

 

**Elio**

Elio. ElioElioElioElioElioElio

**Oliver**

<sighs - with feeling> _ Oliver _ . I remember...everything.

 

###  Luca

I clear the set for Elio’s final shot - he sits before the fireplace and stares into the flames. His whole relationship with Oliver, burning to the ground - leaving only the ashes of memory. While his emotions play out over his face, Mafalda and Annella set the table in the background - as if to say, ‘Life goes on’. Timothée is fitted with an earpiece, as are key members of the crew - so that we can follow along with the beautiful Sufjan Stevens song,  _ Visions of Gideon. _ My instructions to Timothée are simple: we will do three takes, each with a different level of emotion displayed - reserved, less reserved, and completely emotional. Midway through the second take, I know that I have my closing scene. The emotion runs across his face with such honesty, the depth of feeling that I did not think could exist in a 20-year-old boy, but which can - and does - reside in a 20-year-old man. That is the transformation of Elio, and of Timothée in these final moments.

I am so rapt in the vision of this tearful man before me that I do not notice Armie returning to the set. When Timothée stands after the final take - Armie does not speak, but crosses to him and enfolds him in his arms.

“It’s killing me...it’s killing me,” Armie whispers into Timothée’s gelled curls.

Timothée is shaking. The transparency of his emotions, which have felt like a priceless gift throughout our time together, now seems like a curse. When he puts that final scene out there, he carved too close to the bone and now he is devastated. Timmy pulls off the white shirt, throwing it on the table, and pulls Armie towards him, “I...I can’t stop - when I think about...Armie, I need  _ you _ now”.

The entire crew, Ferdinando and myself included, observe without interference as Armie leaves set, his arms wrapped protectively around Timothée - our hearts break for them.

I assumed they took their bikes and went home, but an hour later one of the grips tells me that the bicycles are still there, and do I want them locked up inside. 

“Luca, do you have the number for the car service - I think they’ve forgotten us today,” Michael walks in with Amira on his arm. Before I can even find my phone, Ferdi has them on the line.

“Michael, Amira - they said they did pick up here today - but the driver changed the destination. They didn’t go back to town in Crema, but to Milan,” he looks at me in consternation.

I rub my face with my hands, “Ask them where they went?” Ferdinando nods, already speaking to the dispatcher.

“Shopping district - not a hotel...Luca, we are supposed to be shooting in Bergamo, shall I call and reschedule?”

“Tell them...tell them we will begin next week - that we are taking off the weekend.. _.cazzo, cazzo cazzo! _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RPF - emphasis on the F. Any resemblance to real people or situations is the result of a good guess, not actual knowledge.   
> As always - thank you to Posh-Boy-Clever-Boy, beta extraordinaire - who needed to send me back to my knitting a bunch on this one and the next one. THANK YOU!


	20. Victim of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’ve stolen you away, where nobody will find us...not for a while, at least...but you are still somewhere else, never with me,” Timmy’s voice is kinder than I deserve, “Is it really over, then?”_  
>  The boys wonder what comes next in a hotel suite in Milan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for the comments and love. Please stick with me - the last chapter is making me sad, and I need all the encouragement I can possibly have. The last chapter may also be two chapters, depending on whether I give in to my romantic nature and give us just a little more respite before I bring the hammer down....so to speak.
> 
> Audio: Title comes from the amazing Charles Bradley song, Victim of Love - everyone should give a listen.  
> Visual: This is the hotel suite if you need a visual. [Hotel Bulgari, Junior Suite](http://www.bulgarihotels.com/en_US/milan/rooms-and-suites/suites/junior-suite/)

### Armie

I leave Crema - the film, my friends, my wife, even my child - in a second and without hesitation the moment he tells me he needs me.  I watch Elio’s tears - and Timothée’s intimidating act of bravery - to draw from the pain of real life, instead of pushing everyone away...instead of doing what I’ve done to him. We leave set and get into the chauffeured car, intended for Michael and Amira.

“ _Alla città_?” The driver asks and I am about to agree when Timmy speaks.

“ _No - No. Puoi portarci a Milano?_ ”

“ _A Milano, si. Ma dove?_ ” Timmy is silent for a moment, then makes a decision.

“ _Hotel Bulgari_.”

“ _Certo, signore_ ,” he tips his cap and rolls up the privacy partition.

I raise my eyebrows but say nothing at the change of plan.

“I’m stealing you away...even if it is only for one night - no distractions,” Timmy reaches over as my mobile begins to vibrate and, with a glance at me, turns it off. He turns off his as well.

“No distractions,” I repeat. I touch his face where tears have left salty trails into his collar.

I’ve been trying to keep myself away from him - to distance myself from this project which has come to mean absolutely everything to me in the past few months. But the moment I saw his tears, I was like a satellite pulled out of orbit by the force of nature that is Timothée Chalamet. If I am honest with myself, I am afraid - afraid of how quickly he maneuvers through my best defenses, afraid that my addiction to him will break me.

“Nothing but me and you,” I see the first hint of a smile on Timothée’s face and he pulls himself into my lap. His mouth is on mine and the fear and everything else slide away. Our kiss is sharp with passion. He has me pushed down against the seat, slowly grinding against me until I have to beg mercy or we will be fucking in plain sight on the SP415.

“Sorry, sorry,” Timmy pants against my neck, “I just...I feel like I can’t ever get close enough to you. It’s driving me a little crazy.”

Crazy. At the heart of it all, a perfect description.

We pull apart once we enter the city; Hotel Bulgari is centrally located, but slightly off the beaten path. When we arrive, I tip the driver extravagantly for his discretion. We are both nearly presentable by the time I cross the dark parquet floor of the lobby to the front desk. Timmy silently hands me his credit card with a nod. The concierge recognizes me at once and upgrades us to a Junior suite; he does not question the credit card - but hands over two keys. In the elevator, Timmy takes my hands and presses me back into the corner, nuzzling into my neck. We have almost no luggage - only our backpacks and my rope kit, which Elizabeth insisted I remove from the flat when she moved in with Harper. I left it at the Villa but was taking it home since today was our last day shooting in that location. The thought of using it with Tim makes me feel dizzy. Before Crema, ropes were only a kink, a fetish - After Crema, they are tangible symbols of the depth of trust between Timothée and me.

After Crema...many of my sentences will begin with “After Crema”.

The hallway is dark and quiet, scented with blood oranges and cedarwood. We fumble our way to the suite. Our room is stylish and elegant - heathered grey coverlet tucked tight as a drum over a modern four-poster bed. Enormous windows that afford a view of the slate terrace and green space outside. A bath covered in cream-coloured marble with a bathtub that looks more like an altar. Purple velvet rugs underfoot.

The enormity of what we’ve done starts to sink in. Luca will be furious; Elizabeth even more so….I cannot face Timmy yet, while I am still prey to my thoughts: anxiety and guilt.

“I need a shower,” I declare abruptly, breaking the intensity of the moment the door closed behind us. So I make use of the bathroom’s amenities. When I return, Tim is staring out the window at the darkening sky, twirling the prosecco the staff left in a bucket of ice on a table framed by the draperies. He lights up when he sees me...but as he reads my worries in the lines of my face, his smile fades.

“I’ve stolen you away, where nobody will find us...not for a while, at least...but you are still somewhere else, never with me,” Timmy’s voice is kinder than I deserve, “Is it really over, then?”

### Timothée

Armie hides his face in my lap when I ask him if this is over - as though he cannot face the answer to that question. He whispers, “That’s not what I want...but it is all I seem to be capable of...hurting you. That’s what you meant last night, isn’t it? That I continually cause you pain...and the rest isn’t worth it, on balance.”

“I never said that it wasn’t worth it - of course it is - it’s everything to me. _You_ are  _everything,”_ I pull his face up to meet mine, “I want you, provided you still feel for me. But I don’t…Listen, there are any number of less-complicated ways of getting a fuck. It’s not about that for me - so if casual sex is all I’m left with...then this is over between us.”

Armie wraps his massive hand behind my head,“Timmy….I _can’t._ I think...I think I’m numb. Time keeps moving faster and faster as we reach the end and I can’t bear the thought of this ending, so I close down,” Armie’s voice is flat, a mask of indifference trembles over his features, revealing more than it conceals.

I laugh, sharp and short and humourless, “To avoid feeling the pain of this ending, you’ve gone numb; while I - following the sage advice of my movie dad - am in so much pain, I’m vibrating with it, just so I won’t lose the rest of it: love, acceptance, the kind of all-consuming passion that makes poets versify and troubadours sing…,” I push back into his hand like a cat, unwilling to break contact just yet.

“It is killing me...absolutely killing me...that I am the cause of so much pain,” It’s true - I can see it etching new lines on his beautiful face.

I trace each one as if to document the evidence that he still feels deeply, no matter how he may deny it, “This does not look like numbness - this looks like you are desperate to feel less than you obviously do. The only question is: what do you feel? Love? Guilt?”

“You know the answer to that. But - in the position we are in - I don’t deserve to even say those words to you. And goddamnit - the guilt is overwhelming - it’s almost worse that you forgive me,” tears gather in the corners of Armie’s eyes.

“Enough of that - stop feeling guilty over a situation that you can’t control - not entirely. If you are mine, then my forgiveness should be enough,” I cup his face.

“What if forgiveness isn’t enough?” He cries.

I am quiet for a minute, turning the idea over in my mind before I set it before him, “Then...then I will punish you. If you want to hurt, I’ll make you hurt - but we do this my way. Only my way”

“Always your way,” Armie nods his head - a nervous relief floods his features, “Punishment.”

I can give him that - if that is what he needs to free himself again, to feel something other than the overwhelming guilt that threatens to capsize all of his relationships. In the end, isn’t that what dominance is? Being the one to hold on for both of you when the other one needs to let go?

I stare out over the darkening Milanese sky, then inhale sharply - my decision made, “You have the ropes? Good. Bring them here,” I pat the edge of the bed. When Armie sets down the bag, I pull him to me, stroking his hair. When he settles against me, I pull back and begin to undress him almost clinically.

“Timmy, I…”

“No. We’ve gone past the point where words are helpful...they aren’t even relevant unless you want to say ‘no’. Unless you want me to stop,” I question him. He shakes his head and I continue. I strip him to the waist and tie each of his arms to a bedpost, facing inward. I stand behind him to unbuckle his belt and yank it free of his jeans, “Keep your legs spread," I shove his pants down and kick them away.

I take off my shirt but leave my jeans on as I tie his legs to anchor him. His breath quickens with arousal - I anticipated that binding him would begin to shatter his practiced indifference, the numbness he cultivated. But tonight it is only the first step. Bondage, I knew from his late-night interviews, was something he considered a kink or perhaps an indulgence - but there was no real indication either way that he could fetishize pain. And perhaps he doesn’t, or only with me. Submitting to the ropes is about aesthetics, then trust...but pain requires trust before anything. I press into his body, allowing the cold bite of his belt buckle against his ass cheek.

“Timmy?”

“Shhhhh. It’s Michael’s speech, isn’t it?,” my fingers wrap around the length of him, “To feel nothing so as to not feel anything...what a waste’...I won’t let that happen to you, to us,” I whisper while sucking on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. Armie is glorious, head lolling back on my shoulder, his gorgeously tan body spread eagle next to the bed, face flushed, cock hard and weeping in my hand. He moans and it makes me unbearably hard.

“I can’t...I don’t know how to turn it on and off like that, T,” he is already panting.

“Then don’t. If it hurts, let it hurt. If it makes you feel alive, feel alive - in your own skin. If you love me, you love me. You’ve spent weeks now shutting me out, did it spare you - even a little?”

Armie shakes his head and stutters a breathy, “No” that reveals how close he is.

I release his prick and double the belt in my hands, “Then it is time to try something else,” and I let the belt fly.

The first blow lands perfectly across the fleshiest part of his ass. He cries out and tries to pull away; I hold him against me and speak calmly, “If you twist out of position, the belt will catch your leg or your hip and that will hurt. Be still?” I raise my voice to make it a question.

Armie deliberately slows his breathing, “Yeah...yes, I do. I need it.”

“Good. Count for me, it helps. We’ll start with five,” I move back, after stroking his cock one last time and tweaking his left nipple.

The belt whistles through the air, landing parallel to the first stripe. The leather is soft and broad enough in width that it won’t leave any permanent marks. There are full-length mirrors positioned behind and next to the bed. I can see him, flushed and panting, as he says, “One.” He looks a bit like Errol Flynn in Captain Blood. He is fighting it, but I don’t have to remind him to count or hold the position through the next two strokes, though by the end of them tears are streaming down his face and his eyes are glowing. On the fourth, he pulls away and I correct him with a jerk, grasping the base of his cock so he doesn’t come. When I move away, he sags against the ropes.

“Do you need me to stop?” I hesitate, the flat of my palm against the heat of his ass.

He meets my gaze in the mirror as I massage his skin. At least in the moment, all of Armie’s walls have come down. He shakes his head ‘No’ and I give him the final stroke with the belt. I strip off my jeans and lay in front of him on the bed, wrapping my lips around his cock while pressing on the welts from his whipping. I tease him, never falling into a rhythm so he doesn’t come too quickly. When I release him, he doesn’t protest - but looks down to me and whispers, “Timothée...No one else...Christ! I never...I worship you, T.”

I hold his face in my hands, “Look at me,” and he does, “You like it. I hurt you - and it turns you on?”

Armie looks away and I jerk his chin to remind him of my instructions. He looks back into my eyes and all of the fight bleeds out of him, “Do I like it? Yesssss...I thought it would be a...punishment - like when you kiss your best friend’s girl in High School and let him punch you without defending because you deserve it. But it isn’t like that. That made me feel better...this...this makes me _hard_. I can’t think of anything else, only you...does this…,” Armie swallows, as though the words stick in his throat, “Please would you tell me if this turns you on? Because - if it does - I would like to continue.”

“See for yourself,” I roll on to my back - wrapping my hand around my erection - teasing him, “You can see what you do to me. I like you bound. I like the welts from your belt. I love that I make you feel...you cannot help but feel. So, yes - I like hurting you, too - because of what it does for you,” my head drops back as I fondle my balls. Armie is panting, straining towards me. I kneel up, putting two fingers of my left hand into his mouth, “Get them wet.”

When I pull away, I make him watch me stretch myself open. His cock is blood-dark and leaking against his belly. I kiss it lazily, running my tongue along the vein, just barely sucking the tip. In the back of my mind, I realize that I want him to suffer for all of the days he deprived me of this - when Elizabeth took precedence - even though it is unfair to him.

I bite his nipples and tug on his balls, then coil the smooth rope under to bind them to his cock. I make the knots on top so that he can see them - the technique is something I saw online, which I quickly realized is the same method for trussing a roast. Someone as long as Armie shows it off to great advantage - and it will make it harder to come, which is my primary goal.

Armie’s face has lost a bit of that passivity of submission, but he does not speak. He allows me to do whatever I want - and what I want right now is to see how close he can get to orgasm from the belt alone. I run my tongue around the tip of his penis once more then stand and grab the belt. He counts without my telling him. By five, tears slide freely down his face - by eight, he is repeating my name. I stop at ten, sweat covers my hairless chest. I move in front of him and guide his head to lick away the rivulets. His cock glides between my thighs and he strains against his ropes to feel me. I kiss his eyes, his mouth, and settle in on his neck, pressing him back so the ropes don’t strain his shoulders. As I kiss him gently, he begins to dissolve - tears give way to sobbing so deep and broken that I am moved to take him in my arms, “Armie, talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“Timmy. My body...every cell of my body needs you. I want you all the time. You are my addiction. And my heart...I wish I could rip out my heart and throw it at your feet. I have no other use for it,” Armie has the fervour of an altar boy in a confessional, “I...I love you so goddamn much,” _He loves me...he loves me...he loves me._ He also desperately wants to come, but he would be okay if I deny him _that_ release if only I give him absolution. I free his legs and arms then crawl back on the mattress, pulling him to me.

“You are everything to me,” I cradle him against my body, caging him with my arms and legs. He burrows his face into my chest - but even as we hold each other, I can feel the embrace become something else. My mouth is on his neck and his cock is bound and rubs between my legs as though it were begging. I flip him on his back and inspect the ropes. Before I untie him, I bring him back from the edge with some ice from the champagne bucket.

“Does it hurt? Can I touch your cock?”

Armie hisses when the ice rubs against him, but still begs me, “Please!” he moans, sounding strangled.

I massage away the impressions of the rope with lube, “Tell me if this is too painful?”

I straddle his lap and we come together so slowly. I press him into my body, descending at a glacial pace, deliciously stretched to take him in to the hilt. My lips and tongue seek his and we rock gently at first, “Grab the bedpost, don’t let go. Tell me if it’s too much.”

I start to rise and fall, watching him for signs of pain or soreness, but I only see eyes blackened with desire. I use my long fingers to torture his nipples; he seeks revenge by planting his feet and fucking up into me as I slide down. I want to be impossibly close to him, “Give me your arms.”

When he reaches for me, I reverse our positions so he is on top. I reach around to touch his welts; each time I press them, I can feel the twinge of his cock buried deep in me. We draw it out as much as we are able. In the end, he is thrusting so deeply, so perfectly - I cannot hold back. He moans against my throat, “I want to...I want to…”

I groan just as deeply, “Yesss, yes...Armie, go - Now!”, and when I feel him release, I come so hard that I black out with a wordless cry, clutching him to me.

### Armie

It was full dark when Timmy woke, still pressed under me on top of the hotel sheets. Our bodies came apart while we slept and the bed was wet, sticky, and cold. Timmy nudged me and I came awake with a gasp and pushed off him quickly - unaware of my surroundings and unsure of my bedmate. When I get my bearings, I collapse in relief into Timmy’s arms.

“I guess holding the full weight of you would crush Elizabeth?” Timmy tries to smile - but he looks pained, and the moment hurts more than I expect, “We need to clean up,” his lips press into my hairline.

“The shower is amazing, come on,” he looks almost shy, reaching down to me. When I stand, he pulls off the messy coverlet and tosses it into a corner. I pause, nude, before the full-length mirror, admiring the stripes across my ass. Timmy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“They look amazing on you - was that...was that your first time?”

I laugh with a gentle huff, “There is not another person living that I would trust with any of that, Timmy. Only you could literally beat me and never hurt me. I trust you.”

Tim nods and smiles and I realize that he doesn’t understand how deep this goes for me, “Tim...you know in the book, where Elio tells Oliver ‘You are the only person I'd like to say goodbye to when I die, because only then will this thing I call my life make any sense. And if I should hear that you died, my life as you know it, the me who is speaking with you now, will cease to exist.’?”

“That is the quote, exactly.”

I nod, “Didn’t make a lick of sense to me when I read it back home...I thought maybe it was a gay thing? Because it couldn’t be about love; I thought I knew what love was - I loved Liz, but...not like that, never that way. But now...I understand. In life’s journey, so many people are...signposts,...a scenic overlook, a tourist attraction...but in my life, you are the road.”

Timmy comes to me, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, and kisses my shoulder. I curl into his body, completely soft in his embrace. There is a moment of understanding between us - how deeply enervated this love is, how fundamental to who we are. For me - it is the moment I understand that what is between us is unbreakable - more so than any other vow I’ve ever made, including my marriage vows. Together we enter the bathroom and I turn on the shower - and pull him in with me. We wash quickly and go back to bed.

“Tim, do you have a charger? My phone died.”

“Sure - but for chrissake, don’t turn it back on! You know it’s gonna blow up the minute we surface. I’m thinking of just throwing mine away.”

“No! Dear God, no,” I push the cord into the base carelessly, then strip off my towel and jump into bed - into Timmy’s open arms - and quickly fall fast asleep. Which is to say, I forgot how phones work - and in perhaps 60 minutes - when the phone had sufficiently recharged to turn itself back on - Tim and I wake to buzzing and beeping and vibrating.

Timmy groans, “I _told_ you…”

“I know, I know - I forgot it would turn itself on when it got charged past the low power mode thing. Fuck!”

“Shut it up.”

“Working on it,” I reach for the device to silence it, but on the lock screen, the last, visible text from Elizabeth is a grainy black-and-white photo. I swipe it open.

**EC: Husband - thought you might have forgotten what day it was...looks like this little guy wanted to remind you - that’s the hand in the upper right. Nick told me the technician said ‘he’s waving’. I doubt you could have improved on Nikki’s ‘proud papa’ face even if you had decided to come.**

I stare at the phone, barely able to breathe. Nick has seen my son ( _can they even tell yet?_ ) before I did. Timmy reaches for me, but I shrug his hand away.

“Armie, what the hell?”

“Elizabeth. Yesterday was her first ultrasound - Nikki had to go with her."

"Did you know..."

"I missed my son’s ultrasound, Timmy.”

“Couldn’t she have rescheduled…”

“I missed it. I didn’t even know it was happening...she must have told me…”

“I’m sorry.”

Even in my fugue, I can hear the hurt in his voice, but I am beside myself and...if I am going to be completely honest...I blame him, although he doesn’t deserve it. Elizabeth must have told me about it, and I was only half-listening, off in my own little world. Then yesterday - Timmy needed me, and I drop everything to run away with him. Only - I’m not a teenager anymore, I’m a man with a family. Of course, Timmy didn’t think about that - why would he?

“It’s not your fault. We got...caught up in everything yesterday. I can’t do anything about it now, let’s get some sleep. I’ll have the front desk get us car service in the morning,” I pat his leg. He waits briefly, his forehead resting on the back of my arm, thinking I might kiss him. When I do not, he turns away from me and tugs the blankets over his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Person **Fiction** \- don't nobody get bent outta shape about it.  
> Thanks as always to Posh-boy-Clever-Boy, beta extraordinaire.  
> [I am CMBYN-Ghostspots on Tumblr](https://cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com/)


	21. Call Out My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You talk like I could ever get enough of you...when I think you realize that I will never be satisfied. You will never be satisfied. As long as this thing between us exists - forced into the odd night away, hidden under the guise of two bros hanging out - we will be like hungry ghosts,” my frustration bubbles out and tears shining in the corner of my eyes.  
> Armie glares, angry at me for stating the obvious, but his expression changes when he notices my tears. In an instant, his arms surround me and the back of my knees hit the bed. We tumble down, his mouth moving insistently against mine. I let him have me - while he eagerly demands greater proofs of my devotion with his hands, lips, eyes, arms…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS Chapter! I couldn't bring it across the finish line in one - good news, more time with the boys. The last one is gonna hurt like a sonofabitch - for the boys, but also for me. Thank you all for supporting me on this fictional journey - I've loved interacting with every single one of you and wish for wonderful, Oscar-winning ways for the real gentlemen who inspired this story.

### Timothée

Despite our night, we both wake early. Re-entering reality was going to be rocky no matter what, but I didn’t anticipate the additional level of guilt and discomfort from Armie missing that major milestone of Elizabeth’s pregnancy. Part of me feels guilty, too - but another part - quiet, but gaining in volume with every interaction with Elizabeth - wonders about the timing. Why wouldn’t she wait to have these scans with her doctor at home? Armie didn’t even realize that it was happening - was that because he wasn’t paying attention, or because Elizabeth orchestrated this when we fucked off to Milan. Is she genuine, or playing him masterfully?

I suppose the real answer doesn’t even matter - only what Armie believes. And what he believes is that he is a horrible husband (OK - valid) and terrible father (never) - because he missed the appointment for me.

I hear him arranging car service while I shower. When I return to the room, our bags are packed and waiting by the door. Mercifully, there are also two cappuccinos and some pastry-type things that will more than serve for my breakfast.

“Thank you for ordering - I’m starving.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah - sure. No problem. Have you checked your messages yet?”

“No - can you give me the cliff-notes version? How much trouble are we in?”

“Luca asked me to come directly to his house when we get back. He sounded...clipped,” Armie rubs his face with both hands, “Has Ferdinando been assigned to read you the riot act?”

Reluctantly, I reboot my phone. There are text messages from Luca, Ferdinando, Pauline, Nick, and Will. I groan - deciding to read them in order.

 

**LUCA**

We have delayed filming in Bergamo until Monday, Tesoro.

Take care of yourself, call us if you need anything.

 

**FERDINANDO**

Timothée, _mon chat - Ta mère va te donner une fessée_ \- stealing her car like that.

_Si tu as besoin de quoi que ce soit, dis-le-moi._

 

**PAULINE**

Luca called me (how does he have my phone number, even?)

to say you’d done a bunk with Prince Not-Exactly-Charming?

Tell me you are safe, you have 24 hours before I call _maman_.

 

**NICK**

I understand; I am Italian. Sometimes shopping is an urgent, even emotional, need.

But if you happen to see this, you might want to ring me -

before the other people who love a good shopping trip feel...left out.

 

**WILL**

Miss you, sunshine. So does the CMBYN crew. Be safe….come home.

 

“Um, after a fashion,” I reply.

“Should we go directly to Luca’s, then?” Armie asks distractedly. Secretly, I think he wants to delay the reunion with Elizabeth for as long as possible.

“He just wants me to text. We’ve delayed the Bergamo shoot...Luca doesn’t strike me as the ‘flowers-and-chocolates’ type...I doubt I could afford anything he’d like from _il quadrilatero di moda…,”_ I wring my hands.

“Just show up ready to work and all will be forgiven for _you_ \- after all, you’ve carried this film,” Armie sounds bitter.

“ _We_ have. I couldn’t have done this without you,” I take his hand.

Armie half-smiles, “I take some small consolation that - no matter how I’ve dragged down this picture with my fumbling - I’m still better than Shia would have been. At the very least, I didn’t go off on a racist crack-bender halfway through filming,” Armie watches my face, “What?”

“Nothing. These are my alternatives? Jesus,” I grin.

“Come on. Your chariot awaits. No privacy partition, so I hope last night will tide you over until Bergamo. What is it?”

“You talk like I could ever get enough of you...when I think you realize that I will never be satisfied. You will never be satisfied. As long as this thing between us exists - forced into the odd night away, hidden under the guise of two bros hanging out - we will be like hungry ghosts,” my frustration bubbles out and tears shine in the corner of my eyes.

Armie glares, angry at me for stating the obvious, but his expression changes when he notices my tears. In an instant, his arms surround me and the back of my knees hit the bed. We tumble down, his mouth moving insistently against mine. I let him have me - while he eagerly demands greater proofs of my devotion with his hands, lips, eyes, arms…

“It’s only Thursday,” I gasp.

“Huh...what?”

“Thursday - Luca said the Bergamo shoot will start on Monday..today is Thursday. Armie - we could stay here. Just a few more nights - we could stay?”  I sound desperate, but I know on a preconscious level that when we return, it will really be over - despite Armie’s insistence that nothing needs to change. There is a knock at the door. Armie pushes up from my body and walks slowly towards the door. The bellboy is ready to take our bags down to the waiting car. Armie looks at him, then back at me, his mouth hanging open and reaches a conclusion, “Mi scusi,” he says, then firmly closes the door.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of me while he calls the front desk. Yes, the room is available through Sunday. No, it won’t be any trouble to arrange the car then. He replaces the phone in its cradle, “We’ve never had even a weekend away - if work doesn’t need us, then the rest of the world can wait. We can deal with all of it when we get back”.

“I still need to text Pauline,” I waver.

“Then do it, but tell her not to discuss it with Luca et. al. I’ll just tell everyone that we eloped without so much as a cell phone charger and we only came up for air on Sunday.”

“Armie - just...tell her via text that you are sorry, and you want to discuss it in person when you get home. No need to be specific on when that will occur. She doesn’t need to worry - but you don’t need to be at her side 24/7. That’s unhealthy.”

“Says the teenager whose long-term relationship experience came at the hands of Lola Leon,” Armie snips.

“Who also has parents who have been happily married for a quarter century, yet would sometimes spend the entire summer apart for work reasons. If Elizabeth is genuinely okay with this, then she will understand. If she isn’t,...well, at least we know,” I trail off, because I think I know the answer: she really isn’t ‘OK’, she doesn’t want to share him. I sympathize, I don’t want to share either. I also know that Armie still assumes that Elizabeth is supportive of our arrangement, despite an overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary. As much as Armie was thinking long-term the first time she came to town, now I am focussed on short-term logistics...trying to get as much of him as I can, before she brings the hammer down. Armie nods his head, picks up his phone and sends a brief message. I reply similarly to Pauline, Will, then Ferdinando and...after thinking on it briefly...I also message Nick in French, saying that we will be back in time for the Bergamo shoot and not to worry about Armie or me.  We mute our phones and Armie tumbles back into bed, pulling off my clothes and his.

* * *

The rest of the weekend feels very much like a honeymoon. We spend most of it naked, and by breakfast on Friday, we’ve fucked each other on every available surface in the suite at least once. Armie is particularly creative, tying my arms above my head and threading the rope over the heavy full-length mirror, then taking me from behind. He wraps a hand around my throat while he fucks me, pressing into my vocal chords with his thumb. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I am pushing back against him, clamping down and twisting until I shoot all over the mirror. He delves into my over-sensitive body, pounding me until he, too, orgasms - triggering another small aftershock in me.  We’ve stopped using condoms, and I can feel his come running down my legs when he pulls free of me. He plays with it, stimulating my body until my cock rises again, despite my sensitivity. Armie revels in my helpless desire, turning me to face him, settling my leg over his shoulder as he sucks me off against the mirror, the cold against my back interplayed with his hot mouth eagerly taking me in.

“We need a shower,” I wipe the corner of his mouth with my thumb.

“How about a bath instead?” Armie runs the water and wipes us both down with a wet towel. He doesn’t want to let my body go for a single minute. His cock is struggling to rise again as we slide into the sudsy water.

“Kneel up,” I push him over the edge of the tub and trace my tongue down between the gorgeous curve of his ass and rim him until his ejaculates into my soapy hands.

We are both worn out and sore by the time we fall into bed. Armie snuggles into my body, trapping me with his arm thrown carelessly across my abdomen, his head pillowed by my shoulder. He fits with me; it would be easier to lose a limb than cut him loose, but that is what I must do...soon, but not yet.

 

### Armie

We emerge from the suite for the first time on Friday to go shopping. Not my favorite activity, but clearly one of Timmy’s.  To get me in the mood, we start at the farmacia - where we purchase painkillers and an astounding variety and quantity of lube and send it back to the Hotel.

Then we get serious about finding a change or two of clothes. I could learn to like shopping with Timmy - dressing him up and lounging on the ‘sugar daddy couch’ while he rubs himself against me in new designer jeans and sexy tailored shirts. He takes equal pleasure in approving of my choices and suggesting adjustments to my final suit fitting at Armani. I would have sucked him off from the fitting platform if my tailor had not returned, asking if I wanted to take Signora Hammer’s day dresses with me when I left. Timmy’s glorious sunshine smile fades to a brittle replica at the mention of Elizabeth. I tell Claudio that I’ll take everything later and we leave Armani with our ready-to-wear selections. Defiantly, I add everything to my tab.

That evening, we go out to dinner someplace intimate but not too fancy - and spend the entire meal teasing each other, eating off of each other’s plates, and playing such an advanced game of footsie under the table that I nearly make Timmy come in his new designer jeans. We stumble back to the Bulgari, and I settle on our small private balcony with the cigar I purchased earlier.

Timmy returns, shirtless, with champagne in a bucket of fresh ice and gets down on his knees for me.

We can hear people on the patio below, “You will have to be very quiet. Keep smoking, it’ll give your mouth something to do.”

“What about your mouth?” I ask, a bit breathlessly.

“You know my oral fixation. I’ll think of something,” Timmy uncorks the champagne and takes a generous sip while unbuttoning my jeans. I bite back a shout when I feel the effervescence of the champagne against my cock as he pulls me deep. My cigar is soon forgotten.

Later we take turns fucking each other into the mattress. Timmy contorts himself around my body like a man possessed while I am inside him. When he tops, he positions me on my hands and knees and fucks me hard. I go down on to my elbows and he hits my prostate unerringly until I come all over myself without a hand on me. He slows down but I grab his hip and demand he finish inside me. He can’t get back into the rhythm until he gently turns me over and thrusts up into me, locking his eyes with mine.

_Desperation_. That’s what is see when his mask drops and he is finally overcome by his arousal.

* * *

Later still, we lie in bed talking.

“When did you know?”

“When did I know what?” he knows what I am asking, but he wants to make me say it.

“That you...that we would be - this, together?” I pull him closer and he settles back into the circle of my arms.

“Hard to say...from the moment I met you, I was...comfortable. I felt like I knew you,...had always known you….but, in those first weeks, I also thought you were the world’s biggest cock tease,” Timmy shoves me gently.

“I was? I was a cocktease!?”

“Yes! Do you have any concept of how much you touched me? Like - all the time - brushed my arm, wiped my mouth with your thumb, held me too tight for a picture, steadied my bike by grabbing between my legs...but only ever in public. The minute we were alone in your apartment or mine, you just closed the gate...and I was left wondering if I was crazy - thinking you were a flirt in public. You didn’t notice doing ANY of that?”

“Jesus,” I did. I totally did this to him and I didn’t even realize it.

“You admit that you were a cocktease, from Day 1?”

“I didn’t mean to be!  I think...it must have been unconscious. Because I tried to rationalize how much I wanted to spend time with you, and how idiotically jealous I was of X-----, and your piano teacher, and the girls - when they came to town. Even before I realized how much, and in what ways I liked you, I was already insanely jealous of your attention. I just didn’t realize I was being such an utter dick about it.”

“Well, you were.  Fortunately, it was short-lived...thank you, Luca...because if nothing happened after that first kiss rehearsal, I think I might have imploded,” Timmy shakes his head.

I laugh and turn him to face me, “Punching your shoulder or even wiping those delicious lips of yours is one thing, but it would take a man far stronger than I have ever claimed to be to ignore you once he kissed you. The only danger was not making it out for our date that evening. I could hardly wait,” I whisper.

“Do you remember up against the wall on Via Terrisine?”

“Timmy, I remember everything,” I pull him up on my chest and kiss him senseless.

 

### Timothée

By the end of Friday, I realize that I’m working through some sort of checklist. The theoretical reward for completing it is: missing him less when this ends. I know nothing will save me from heartache. I fill my memories with Armie - as Elio did: his hair curling under my fingers, the slope of his shoulders, his erect nipple against my tongue, the length and weight of his cock in my hand, the curve of the apricot, the taste of him, his expression when he comes, the sound of his voice telling me that he wants me, that he loves me, that he needs me.... Each of these moments is recorded in my mind’s eye, as insurance against the soon-coming day when he will be gone.

On Saturday, we go back Armani to pick up a suit that Armie ordered several weeks ago when he was in town with Elizabeth. As we approach the counter, I hear laughter - loud, American, ascending scales but unmusical - Armie’s expression is frozen as Elizabeth ambles over in high heels, a glass of peach juice “Virgin mimosa” in her hand.

“Oh, Husband - there you are. You boys enjoy breakfast? I was just telling Claudio, between the fittings and _the baby,_ I  am simply run off my feet today. Fortunately, the car is waiting - we can head back right now. Tim - you won’t mind grabbing the other bags, would you? Nick can stay on with you if you don’t want to come back until Sunday. Isn’t that right, Nikki?”

Nick emerges from the dressing room, looking devastatingly handsome in an olive drab suit and grey shirt, “Of course, Timothée. Whatever you need.”

The staff wrap the Hammers’ purchases and bring them out to the waiting car. Armie has not spoken a word to me, and realistically, there isn’t a single thing to be said. I gesture to Nick, and he accompanies me out of the shop, “We will see you tomorrow, in Crema.”

I watch Armie get Elizabeth settled into the car, then drive away - his eyes straight ahead, never even sparing a glance for me. Nick settles his arm around my shoulders, “You hungry? Want some lunch? A stiff drink? I am serious when I tell you - your wish is my command.”

“I...yeah, a drink would be...good. Will you stay until tomorrow with me? I don’t….I don’t want to go back just yet,” I lean into Nick, noticing the similarity between his cologne and Armie’s.

“I know just where to take you,” Nick smiles kindly at me and steers me out of the shop by my elbow.

Nick carefully discusses fashion and restaurants during a particularly booze-soaked lunch. He quizzes me on my Italian and declares that wine vastly improves my accent. He deftly avoids the landmines of my life with Armie: Crema, the Hammers, movies, literature...but landmines are tricky, and Nikki cannot be blamed for triggering tears when he suggests that he take me clothes shopping.

“Jesus fuck,” Nick swears as I pull myself together, “He’s gone on you if he voluntarily went clothes shopping. I’ve had to confiscate disintegrating shit of his that he would rather wear than shop.”

“ _She_ must make your job easier,” I throw out bravely, “I can’t imagine she would let him keep something worn out, no matter how much he loved it.”

“There were worse parts of the job,” Nick says darkly, “Let’s head back.”

Nick realizes in short order that I have had far too much to drink and he links his arm under mine as we stumble-walk a few blocks to the Hotel Bulgari. I fumble with my passkey in the lock, and flop face-first into crisply remade bed. The bedside table has bottles of lube lined up like toy soldiers and bondage rope neatly coiled next to a stack of hand towels. Nick surveys this with amused interest.

“Look, Timo - I make it a policy when I am in a hotel suite with a handsome man to discuss nothing other than him - but I am going to make an exception just this once... He is my best friend - has been my best friend since we were kids - and I love the hell outta him. I want him to be happy, but...not at your expense. Armie..he loves you _in his way._ But, right now, instead of using the rest of that impressive lube collection with him, you are stuck listening to me blather on about Milanese restaurants - in a city that could care less about food, it’s so filled with fashion models…”

“I’m sure we could come up with some way to use the lube,” I tease him.

Nikki shakes his head, “ _Bellissimo_ \- it’s cruel to tempt me so. Because I would...if I thought you could forget him, I would - and to hell with Armie,” Nick smiles when he sees me wince at Armie’s name, “But there is that…,” he pushes me over and we stretch out next to each other, leaning against the headboard. Nick runs his fingers through my hair like I'm a friendly collie.

“Which leads me to the second part of my policy - when I am in a hotel suite with a handsome man who is in love with someone else: we order room service like fucking KINGS, watch some movie and fall asleep talking about fast cars, or music, or clothes...and we transfer the entire fucking bill to the Hammer’s credit card when we check out tomorrow and go back to work,” Nick produces a credit card out of his pocket like a street urchin in a Dickens novel. I cannot help but laugh; I roll into him and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. He holds the room service menu, “Lobster? What business does a lobster have being this far inland? Caviar? The steaks come from Tuscany - and champagne,” Nick notices my frown, “No champagne, a beautiful Barolo, then.”

“You order for me,” I hide my face on Nick’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you, Timothée.”

 

### Armie

When I get into the car with Elizabeth, I barely have time to breathe in before she starts.

“I don’t mind if you like to fuck him. He’s beautiful - go ahead and fuck him”.

“Elizabeth!” I gesture to the driver.

“Oh, please! He doesn’t speak English...and even if he did...We had an agreement,” she snaps.

“What agreement? You gave permission - you made quite a point of it, Elizabeth,” I am furious.

“I gave you permission to have a little...fun on your shoot. I thought you’d get it out of your system. I certainly did NOT intend that you abandon me, with a baby and another on the way, for your teenaged boy toy!” The driver sucks his teeth and I glare at her.

“He is in his 20’s. He isn’t a toy. You are not abandoned. And he will NEVER be out of my system.”

Before she can reply, the driver asks - in perfect, almost unaccented English - to confirm our destination address and Elizabeth and I lapse into icy silence for the remainder of the trip.

Twenty minutes outside of Crema, two things happen: I get a text message from Luca and the driver simultaneously receives a call.

 

**LUCA**

The car is being re-routed to my house. You will come directly to me, and then it will take Elizabeth home. I will speak with you today.

 

“Elizabeth, I am going directly to Luca’s. The driver will take you home after I’ve been dropped off there,” I don’t know which conversation to dread more. At least, with Luca - I have faith in his good intentions; I don’t know where I stand with Elizabeth anymore. She tries to protest, but I remind her that he still holds my contract for this picture and she resumes her infuriated silence.

* * *

I was pleased to postpone this discussion for approximately twenty-five minutes - the amount of time it took for the car to arrive at Luca’s house in Crema, and for me to walk up the stairs leading to Luca and Ferdinando’s apartment. Luca’s face, when he opened the door, was thunderous.

“Armie, this was perhaps a long time in coming...first you escape because you have plans with your wife...next you slip through the cracks with your lover. I cannot wait forever. Come - we talk. Now.”

“Luca lemme just start by saying that I’m so so sorry - I know what Timmy and I did, leaving like that, was incredibly unprofessional, and…”

“Enough,” Luca gestures with both hands, “...of all the inexcusable behavior of the last few weeks, that was - perhaps - the most forgivable, the most...understandable. It would take a hardened heart to ignore Timothée's pain that day. And yet - that is very much what I feared would occur. You have been ignoring your heart so...ferociously,” Luca pauses for my response.

“No. That’s...that’s not it at all, Luca. I just..”

“You just - nothing. How many times must I reset a scene because my leading man is absent?” Luca raises his voice.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind!”

“ _Certo_! If only one of those things was the art you are here to make!”

“It was!”

“Bullshit!” Luca snaps, “On Monday we leave for Bergamo - you cannot bully your way through these scenes!”

“I’m not bullying…”

“YES! Yes, you are. You are not giving yourself to me, you are not giving your best to your partner, Timothée. You are ‘pushing through’ scenes, instead of feeling them. I would not accept that from your very first rehearsal with Timothée, what in heaven makes you think I would accept it in the emotional climax we all have built towards?” Luca is furious, but there is an undercurrent of sadness that, I can hear even through my defensiveness.

“Well, what about you? Half of the phone calls you get while on set are from pre-production on _Suspiria_ \- you’ve checked out of this film just as much, if not more than, me,” I counter.

“Armie, you can project this on to me, or you can deal with the very real problem: production is about to close on this film. It is nearly finished - and the love story you are telling with Timothée, the simple life you’ve led with him: espresso in the morning, bike riding in the afternoon,....playing at lovers all day - being actual lovers all night. Armie, it’s over - the only question that remains: what will you do about this? Because fighting the end will not postpone reality indefinitely. And our time here is almost done.”

I try to reply, he had been nailing me and nailing me all afternoon - but he is right - and perhaps this is one of the many reasons I love Luca. _He sees me_ and treasures me still - even when I feel like there is so little I have on offer behind the facade of good looks. Tears flow down my face, and I collapse from my seat on the couch - sliding on to the floor, my forehead against his knees. I’m sobbing. My shoulders shake, my face is a mess of tears, spit, and mucus - it isn't a pretty picture, but Luca doesn’t care. He pets my hair and strokes my face.

“I chose you for this role because I knew you had it within you. But - I also chose you because I love _you, figlio mio._ I want what is best for you - for you to be happy. In the time you have spent in Italy, the one thing that seems to light you up from the inside is him. Do not ignore this; it will not go away. _Ti amo,”_ Luca helps me to stand, “Now, I cannot put you through such emotional turmoil and not feed you afterward, we are - after all - still in Italy. _Andiamo a cena, tesoro.”_

I hesitate for a moment - I know I am due for a similar and unpleasant conversation with Elizabeth, but right now I need to be fed and loved until I can see everything more clearly. I follow him to the kitchen to offer my help.

Luca has the gift of extending dinners indefinitely - but, out of respect for Elizabeth - he does not drag this one out much beyond the _apertivo_ . Fortified with good food and wine - and even Ferdinando treating me with humanity - I return to the flat to confront Elizabeth. Harper is asleep. My wife is nursing a single glass of chardonnay - a California white - and _thinking_. Her expression is so intense that it will take a team of cosmeticians to unfurrow her brow again, post-baby, of course.

“You ate, of course. Is all mended? You flashed that movie star smile and Luca was tripping over himself to forgive and forget? Or did you have to _go the extra mile_ to get back in his good books?” Elizabeth leers.

“You are out of bounds. Luca cares about me, about the picture, about Timmy - that man is a better father than I’ve ever known, or could ever be - don’t cheapen it with your...imaginings.”

Elizabeth sighs and makes a tactical retreat, “I’m sorry. I am so, so very tired, Armie. And...probably not a little bit hormonal. You just keep putting me through the ringer...and you don’t seem to care.”

“I do care - Elizabeth, I was broken-hearted when I realized that I missed the ultrasound...didn’t even remember there was an ultrasound. But - there was literally nothing I could do. I missed it. Timmy - if you could have seen him, Liz - he needed me, and I needed him,” I sit and she reaches across the table to take my hand. While she speaks, she twirls my wedding ring.

“Sweetheart - you get like this. You are prone to...crushes - like a child of 14. The second you are back in LA with your trainer, your friends, other projects, you won’t have a minute to think about this boy and it will be over. You are changeable, Armie,” she pats my hand and releases it.

“If you can say something like that you really don’t know me at all, do you?” I am so tired.

“Well - you said you would love me forever - that we were ‘inevitable’. And we could ‘do it now, and have all the memories from here until our rocking chair days, or we could marry other people, only to divorce them’ - because WE were made for each other. THAT was your truth, and I made it mine, Best Friend. So tell me you aren’t changeable?” Elizabeth spits the memories of our courtship out like something rotten. My eyes fill with tears.

“I do love you,” I begin.

“You love the mother of your children, maybe even ‘your wife’ - but me? You stopped loving me long ago. And that’s what you’ll do to Timmy, too - force this affair, destroy any hope of his career, spend months...maybe even a year - worshipping him, and _just_ when he falls, just when he starts to feel comfortable and safe - you will start pining for someone new and he’ll be discarded, just like I was,” Elizabeth laughs bitterly, “Only it will be worse for him. I have your children, I _am_ your wife...he will just be a showmance that overstayed his welcome and all of Hollywood will treat him like a joke. I never thought you were so cruel, Husband.”

I want to deny it - I would never treat Timmy like that….That what I have with him is far beyond anything in my experience, but she is right in a way. When I was wooing her, I was so cocksure - she was The One and I had to have her. I was competitive, too. Stealing her away from her other suitors was as important as winning her for myself. With Timmy...I can’t deny that I’ve been competitive with Will. But the rest?

Loving Elizabeth was like...finding everything I was expected to like and need in one pretty package. Loving Timothée felt like being transported outside of my skin and merging with the other person. I’ve loved her longer...but I realize consciously that I love Tim more. I haven’t let my mind make those comparisons; I always insisted that it wasn’t comparing apples to apples, but now I realize that isn’t true. I love him more - in more ways, and with more of my adult self.

“Is it over, then?” I ask her.

“Oh, Armie. It will _never_ be over between us. I am your wife - a position I have no intention of vacating for your latest fling. I am the mother of your child, with another on the way. You have no prenup, and you will have no career and zero support from Dru or your father if you do this," Elizabeth begins to cry, "And - damn you - I am not this person, okay? I don’t act ugly, I don’t give ultimatums - but I told you the first time I came to visit - you can’t play the cowboy here. These aren’t threats, Armand - they are reality. I tried to ‘share’ because I love you - now, I’m loving you enough to say ‘no more’ - because you will destroy everything we have built together, not to mention your lover’s career - if you continue in this way. So - you two can have the odd weekend away, he can be your best buddy and stay with us in LA, but he can’t be your end-all-be-all. You’ve already filled the position, I’m not retiring. So stop fighting it - this is the life you’ve chosen,” Elizabeth rises a bit unsteadily from the table and goes to our bedroom.

I look down at my phone, no messages from Timmy but one from Nick, “I’ve got him. Home tomorrow...don't worry about us,” there are some pictures too, which I download with unseemly haste. The first one is the remains of a beautiful steak dinner on the nightstand - next to an orderly selection of lube, the second is Timothée’s hair - spread over a pillow - viewed from close behind, and the third is my credit card laid across a copy of the bill for the suite and a positively obscene amount of room service food and pricey wine.

_Bastard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is off The Weeknd's new album - and no one is talking about the slightly odd aspect that it's about Selena Gomez, who Timmy was co-starring with when he met Abel and she broke things off with him? Eh - whatever, they are now Coachella buddies, apparently. 
> 
> Real Person Fiction -  
> Thanks as always to Posh-boy-Clever-Boy, beta extraordinaire.  
> [I am CMBYN-Ghostspots on Tumblr](https://cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com/)


	22. Ghost Spots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bergamo Shoot and the Wrap Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much I want to say in these notes, they could be another chapter. Sharing this story with you all has been a genuine bright spot during a rather rocky period of my life. Your reactions and comments affirmed my belief in my writing, long after I had given up hope that I still possessed any talent for it. I lived in the emotional journey these characters took, using the real people and personalities as a touchstone, and I think everyone enjoyed the outcome - even if this last bit is a direct hit in the feels. :)  
> Thank you a million times over to my beta, Posh-boy-Clever-Boy - who was instrumental in bringing this one over the finish line. I owe you big-time, my friend.  
> I have said before that there may be some one-offs, as they go through festivals and press tour, and there may still be. They won't be part of Senza Parole, but rather the larger series - so please subscribe if you want to be notified or follow me on Tumblr ([I am CMBYN-Ghostspots on Tumblr](https://cmbyn-ghostspots.tumblr.com/) and also [Meta-Lock in the Sherlock fandom/main blog](https://meta-lock.tumblr.com/)

###  Timothée

That night, Nick and I shared the only bed in the suite. I heard him snoring gently next to me as I stared at the ceiling and counted down the hours until morning. My mind replayed every moment of the past few days with Armie, including the one where Elizabeth snapped her fingers and he followed her blindly. I’ve offered, I keep on offering a different life to him. I need to get it through my head that he’s answered me - and actions speak louder than words. He frustrates me - he loves me, wants me, needs me - he said it a hundred times over the past three days. Still, he chooses her - and not just today at Armani. Perhaps today he just didn’t want a scene - but Nikki was right when he said Armie loves me  _ in his way _ . Guiltily, furtively - like a thief who can’t believe he got away with it; never openly, never without reservations.

In the middle of the night, I curled on my side and dissolved into tears. The pain of losing him and sorrow backed up on me like a storm drain overflowing. Nikki woke, and pulled my head on to his shoulder, mumbling in Italian. I sobbed brokenly, clinging to him - letting all of the emotion wash through me - needing another outlet for all of this feeling. I reached for Nikki, seeking to cover his mouth with my own. He froze for a moment, then guided my cheek back to his chest, wrapping me tightly, chastely in his arms as he whispered, “Sleep.”

He was a gentleman; I hated him for it. 

Today, we breakfast silently - sharing the newspapers - and when I hear the knock at the door, Nick whispers, “It’s time.”

The journey home to Crema is uneventful. I text with Will, who sounds jealous of Nick. He wants to be there for me - but there is too much on his plate and he knows it. I speak with my sister, mostly for the comfort of her voice. I also call Ferdinando, who assures me that all is forgiven so long as I am ready to work early tomorrow morning. Nick carries my bag up to my room, over my protests. He doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit inclined to leave me - like I’m being kept on a suicide watch. When I make this observation to Nick, he laughs and says, “Dying is easy, neither you nor Armie have ever taken the easy route in your lives,” Nick pauses, “That isn’t a compliment.”

“Well, I don’t need a sitter,” I grumble.

“No - but you do need a friend, and Will couldn’t be here - I checked. No - he would do anything for you, but he has other commitments now. So - if it’s all the same with you - I will leave in the morning, when you are safely back in the hands of your crew - and not a moment sooner.”

“And if it isn’t ‘all the same with me’?”

Nick flashes a vulpine grin, “I am staying anyway.”

We share my bed again Sunday night. I wake around 3 AM, my face buried in the hair on Nikki’s chest and his arm cradling my shoulders. I turn over gently, so as not to wake him, because his affection, his very presence is such a balm to me. 

In the morning - obscenely early - cast and crew gather in the piazza of Luca’s building, ready to depart for Bergamo. Armie arrives at the 11th hour, Elizabeth and Harper in tow. Hops makes a beeline for me, babbling something close to “Timmy” and I scoop her up. She pulls my curls again and gives me a sly kiss on the cheek. Armie looks on with tenderness and Elizabeth with impatience. She makes a show of kissing her husband goodbye and loudly laments how she and the baby…”well, babies”...will miss him over the next three days.

Luca asks me to travel in his Range Rover; Ferdinando is driving up with the actors from his film on Antonia Pozzi. Luca says he spoke with Armie, there shouldn’t be any issues with the rest of the shoot, then we ride in silence for 30 minutes. 

Finally, Luca speaks - while keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead, “I spoke to Armie.”

“So you said.”

“Perhaps it is better to say I counseled him. I do not want to fill you with false hopes,  _ piccino _ . The path you follow is not an easy one,” Luca seems at a loss for words - a hopelessly strange situation.

“Luca, I  _ know _ . I don’t expect...anything. Thank you for letting us have Milan - at least until Elizabeth intruded.”

“She is his wife.” 

“And she intruded. But I suppose I should be grateful for what we had - we were living on borrowed time. Perhaps we will have a few precious hours more in Bergamo - but that is all it is,” I sigh.

“You will forgive me, I hope. I worry more about him than you. You are young, but possessed of such wisdom; he may be older, but he wants and loves very much like a child,” Luca tightens his grip on the wheel, “I never wanted to hurt you this way.”

I sit in silence for long minutes, because Luca has said nothing I did not know - but it was simple enough to force those thoughts away when Armie was filling my life with his unique blend of near-childish exuberance and Russian melancholy.

“If we are given more time in Bergamo, I will take it. But I can see that it is over - we simply need to settle on a closing date.”

“Darling boy - does he know?”

Tears slide down my face, “I can’t take care of him, Luca. I tried - but…”

“Don’t cry,  _ piccino - non piangere _ . You did. You gave him the opportunity to choose; not once, but again and again. It does not fall to you to care for him in the wake of his decision, unless that decision is to live out his life honestly, with you. You were good to him, more than good. Now, be kind to yourself; he must find comfort in the life of his choosing. So many will love you, Timothée.”

“Not everyone will be Oliver,” I attempt a watery grin.

“But - in only a few days - you no longer need to be Elio,” Luca gives me a measured look - his ‘professor’ stare - and I nod my agreement, then square my shoulders for the days ahead.

###  Armie

The final days of shooting in Bergamo are like an oasis in the desert. I struggle to come to terms with what I have, and what I lost. Monday morning is eaten up by unloading equipment and visiting the locations that were scouted for each outdoor scene. Filming will be mostly at night. Timmy and I peel off from the crew as they head back to the hotel to change for dinner. 

“About Milan, Timmy - I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand, man,” Timmy doesn’t look at me.

“It is not okay - but thank you for understanding. We good?”

Timmy smiles, “The best.”

“Would you have dinner with me?”

Timmy gives me a sidelong glance, “Do you mean dinner? Or do you mean ‘dinner and…’?”

I blush, “I didn’t want to assume.”

“And so you never ask directly for what you want. It’s lead to so much miscommunication, Armie. So, ask me - it can’t be that hard. Ask me for what you want.”

“You are what I want. I want to spend three days making love until we are sore, and three nights giving Elio and Oliver the kiss of a lifetime,” I grasp his wrist and turn him to face me, “I want to have you every single way and for you to have me. I want to stop time,” 

“All but that last, you can have,” Timmy sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of my hand. I think  _ that last is the thing I want most of all. _

We join the rest of the cast and crew for dinner. Timmy butterflies between Sayombhu and Ferdinando and the leads from  _ Antonia Pozzi.  _ We drink sparingly; early tomorrow we shoot the daytime arrival in the hostel and then - starting again at midnight - the first bit of their drunken night out. Timmy heads up to bed early and I follow soon after. I approach his door and my body goes into adrenaline overdrive: my hands sweat, my mouth is dry, my heart is hammering, and I am flushed. Tim opens the door in his boxers, nothing else - and grins as he pulls me inside.

He quickly takes stock of my appearance, “Armie, are you okay?”

I swallow thickly, before responding, “Me okay”.

Timmy nods, “Should I ask if you are prone to nosebleeds, or will you settle down and kiss me?”

The ridiculousness of the situation breaks over me like the yolk of a soft-boiled egg and I smile genuinely as I reach for him.

“There you are,” Timmy says quietly.

We kiss and for a moment, I have my wish: time suspended, resinous, layered. The rip of a condom wrapper calls me back to myself - I am jealous of the peaches we despoiled with no need of such barriers. Still, I shudder because he is inside me, rocking his hips slowly - we don’t rush the crisis. When it comes, it comes for both of us together - sensation spirals between us like a helix. I wish it could be infinite. He collapses on my shoulder, panting with the effort. 

I stroke his back and hair. I mourn the feeling of emptiness when he pulls out of me and ties off the condom. He wipes my stomach with a washcloth and I catch his face in my hands. He doesn’t want to look deeply into my eyes, but he cannot help himself, nor can I. 

After a moment, he turns away - saying, “Let’s focus on the present, the future can take care of itself.”

I nod and hold him close to me as we fall asleep.

###  Luca

We make good use of the time in Bergamo. Filming is easy - for once, uninterrupted by the vagaries of the Italian weather. Timmy and Armie display effortless intimacy for the camera. They cannot hold back here, and neither do. 

I eliminate distractions on location. The crew is minimal, only Armie and Timmy - plus the extras from Ferdinando’s film for the cast. With Armie - I intervene slightly to protect our film. The only car service in Crema is run by a cousin of X----. Regrettably, they are booked solidly through the next three days when Elizabeth requests a sightseeing trip to Bergamo. 

The last two scenes leave both cast and crew with the sharp pain of leave-taking. Oliver, awake beside a sleeping Elio, his face unmasked agony at the thought of their imminent parting. The train station - we eliminate almost every line of dialogue, and I think even James would agree that none is needed. 

We return to Crema - tired but pleased - Friday night will be our wrap party. The girls are flying in from France, Michael and Amira are returning from an overnight in Firenze, almost everyone important to filming will be there - even Peter and Andre. 

On Friday, Armie and his family arrive on the earlier side. Nick left for Rome that morning. Gradually, the party picks up - all of the principal cast and crew are there, save Timmy. When he walks in Walter plays “Lady Lady Lady” and the entire room goes up in a roar of shouts and applause. Ferdinando comes over to me in the DJ booth, “He’s done a tremendous job - this film has  **something** ,  _ amore _ . And the origin point of that magic is that man right there.”

I glance over - Timmy is at the center of everyone’s attention, effortlessly. He is dancing with Esther and Victoire. Michael and Amira toast him with their glasses. Peter and his husband (Timothée’s agent) speak in hushed tones - watching him move. Armie cannot look away. We all feel it - his magnetism, his presence - like witnesses to the birth of a star in deep space. Timothée is unconscious of it all - but he seems happy. Only when he catches Armie’s eyes do I notice the facade slip and I look at the turn-tables because my mind perceived that moment as the sound of a skipping record. 

Elizabeth is the first to leave. Ostensibly, Harper is overtired. Practically, she is being pointedly ignored by cast and crew -  _ La Famiglia _ is pulling the net tightly to protect the boys in their last moments together. She resents it; her resentment is a palpable thing with dimension and weight - but after tonight, it will be Armie’s beast to tame. I shudder to think of it.

Wrap parties are prone to a hint of melancholy. I flatter myself that mine are better than most because the crew knows they will be with me on future projects, too. But tonight, I cannot help but feel the drag of sadness - my grand experiment is over. I do not normally drink - so Walter is surprised when I take his champagne flute and empty it. He gestures to a server to bring another and takes a bottle and ice bucket to the DJ booth when I make short work of the second glass, too. 

“ _ Che cos'hai?  _ What’s with you?” Walter asks.

“You are the one who brought over an entire bottle of champagne!”

“ _ Amico mio _ , I am not one to discourage excess...but I reserve the right to be surprised by it,” Walter pours more champagne into my glass with raised eyebrows.

I continue DJ’ing - only 80’s music, please - and can feel the evening slipping away. Timothée and Armie come over to me, we embrace and take pictures. Armie does not leave Timmy’s side, like a satellite around him in orbit, pulled along in his wake. There are casual touches, glances. 

Walter takes over on the turntables, “ _ Compare _ , isn’t there some early Duran Duran in there? The last four selections would be fine if you were a melancholy 14-year-old circa 1984 just entering her goth phase.  _ Marrona _ !” 

I swat at him, ineffectually. Without the focus of playing music, I am literally too drunk to stand. Ferdinando has been circulating through the party. He regards me with alarm and quickly makes his way to my side. 

“ _ Che cazzo é questo? Sei ubriaco _ ?” he whispers once he has me by the arm. 

“ _ Non lo so ancora _ ,” I slur my words a bit, “but I think it is something...not good.”

“We are going outside for some air,  _ amore _ ,” Ferdinando steers me towards our balcony, grabbing a bottle of water on the way.

“What is it?” we are alone, and Ferdinando holds out the bottle of water with an expectant look, “In 8 years, I’ve never known you to get like this - you barely drink at all. I know this shoot has presented some challenges, but to hell with that. What’s wrong?”

“Have I done a terrible thing to those boys, Ferdi? When I met Timothée - I knew how brilliantly he could bring to life Elio. Armie - he is so beautiful...but I sensed in him this...sadness. I spent time with him and Nikki, and thought - There! There it is. He married - young and immature,...”

“Darling, he is still young and immature,” Ferdinando rolls his eyes.

“He married before he knew himself - or would let himself believe - that he was a lover of men. That woman  _ \- sua moglie  _ \- she treats him like a child,” I run my hands over my face.

“Because he acts like a child.  _ Amore _ \- I have tolerated - with better grace than you have any right to expect - this fascination with Armie Hammer. But even his name is childish! I do not know what you were expecting. He made a lovely Oliver: handsome, distant. The moments of performance, vulnerability - those  _ you  _ pulled out of him like a dentist, removing his perfect Prince Charming teeth.”

“It is my fault. I thought - I love him, desire him - as I love and desired Timothée. I played matchmaker between them, and now? I was so calculating,  _ tesoro _ . So cold...to throw them into the deep end of the pool. When the fireworks were taking too long, I brought them out to the Villa and made them kiss and practically make love on the lawn. I forced this disaster - in order to capture it on film, to make an x-ray of my actors, like my idols,” I am tearful.

Instead of loathing me, as he had every right to do, Ferdinando wraps his arms around me and whispers, “When you met me, I was barely older than Timmy - and you were older than Armie is today. How I idolized you! But - I knew then, as I know now...I could search the world over, and never find what I have with you. So I stopped searching, and when you were too shy - I made the first move,” I laugh up at him as Ferdi continues, “..and the only time I regret is when you are being pointlessly broody over things you cannot control….and when you leave the kitchen in a god-awful mess.”

“Do you think they will forgive me, for manipulating their emotions?”

Ferdinando holds me by the shoulders and looks me squarely in the eye, “Luca - there is nothing to forgive. Fate would have found those two - as much as I dislike him, even I can see and admit that. And you have something amazing and special with this film - your instincts were beautiful - you capture two men, in the liminal spaces where anything is possible, everything is love. It is going to be a classic.”

He reaches out to me, “Come now - you have a party to DJ!”

###  Timothée

I spend the afternoon on a long, solitary bike ride - visiting the Villa and surrounding countryside, swimming at the river - I was saying my own goodbye to what I knew would forever after be remembered as the summer I fell in love with him. There were so many other ways I should look back on it: my first leading role, my first summer in Italy, when I learn to play guitar and piano, learned (some) Italian - but he eclipsed them all, all these milestones in life’s twisting path. He told me in Milan that everything and everyone else was a marker - but I was the road his life was meant to take. Was he the same for me? 

There is nowhere for these feelings to take root. Our time together can be counted in hours now. He could have chosen me, chosen us - without abandoning his child-to-be - but that wasn’t his choice. 

I don’t think it will ever be his choice.

I need to hold on to that now, and set my heart on having him in friendship - as a brother, a mentor - anything but a lover, as my beloved. Tonight will be hard enough - I hate goodbyes. But the wrap party will not be where I say ‘goodbye’ to the man I love, that is what this bike ride is for. Tonight - to quote Oliver - will be ‘Later!’ to my friend. I dash my tears away on the back of my hand and pedal home.

I arrive late to the wrap party - I needed to master the emotions of that afternoon before I faced the whole of La Famiglia. Walter plays “Lady Lady Lady” over my entrance - the anthem for the moment Elio realizes he loves Oliver - and all my preparation almost comes to nothing....  _ Christ _ . He quickly segues into the fast part of the theme from  _ Flashdance _ , and I throw myself into dancing with Esther and Victoire to regain my balance. By the time someone has supplied me with a glass of champagne and the Kinks have asked us to “Come Dancing”, Armie is at my side.

We make the rounds jointly; we are the stars and the center of the party. The image in my mind is two people conjoined at the shoulder blades - we are together, almost touching - but never facing each other. We spend some time with Luca in the DJ booth. He is drinking - I’d even say drunk. I notice that Walter takes over on music after Luca plays “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You” and I offer up a silent prayer of thanks when I hear Duran Duran blaring out of the speakers. 

The festivities continue late into the night. Armie is drinking more than he should - but I have yet to see him ‘too drunk’, although the origins of his ability to consume such massive quantities of alcohol don’t bear too close inspection. He even dances with me, but only after Elizabeth leaves. He has not left my side for a second since I arrived, not even to go outside and smoke. Will left me with a few joints, so I gesture to Armie and we slip out to the balcony. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asks, running his hands up and down my arms.

“Hey - yeah, good. You?” I ask and he nods.

“I was thinking - when we go back, you have the shoot for Hostiles - but after, maybe I could come up to NYC? We could have a boys weekend?” Armie looks up hopefully.

“Have a ‘boys weekend’? Yeah, sure - bring Nick, I’ll take Will - maybe we can use his family’s place upstate and play poker, smoke cigars?” I light the joint and take a massive hit, “Sounds awesome, really.”

Armie drops his head, “Timmy - we talked about this before - what you and I can have - it’s going to be the furthest thing from conventional - but that doesn’t mean that it’s nothing,” he pleads with me, “You know how I feel about you - this is only until the baby is born.”

“And after?” I ask in a small voice. He wraps his arms around me. My resolution wavers. Armie surrounds me in every way. The length and breadth of his body, the woodsy scent of his cologne, and the force of his will - all push into my consciousness - bullying their way past the barriers I pieced together in his absence to rekindle hope.

The Bluetooth speaker sputters to life with possibly the cheesiest Billboard hit of 1983, “Never Gonna Let You Go”, by Sergio Mendes. I grab at it to steady my emotions and add levity to the moment, “Ugh - is the second guy the one from Air Supply?”.

Armie listens for a bit, “I think that’s a woman?” He pauses, “It’s cheesy, I grant you. But it’s kinda perfect for us now.”

“How?” I raise my eyebrow.

“It’s all about second chances….listen?” Armie sways a little with me.

> __ But if there's some feeling left in you   
>  Some flicker of love   
>  That still shines through   
>  Let's talk it out   
>  Let's talk about second chances   
>    
>  Wait and see   
>  It's gonna be sweeter than it was before   
>  I gave some then   
>  But now I intend to dedicate myself to giving more   
>  This time you can be sure

“Well - it’s about not fucking up when you are given a second chance,” Armie corrects himself. He cups my face, “I won’t. If you give me a second chance once all of this stuff is behind us. I promise you…”

“Don’t tempt fate with a promise,” I cut him off, “Ah - if you make me cry over this fuckin’ song - you WILL never be forgiven,” I try to laugh. Armie wipes my tears away with his thumbs. I take a deep breath and center myself, “OK - for now - let’s not worry about weekends in New York or film schedules - any of that,” I smile widely and lace my fingers into his hair, tugging on it until our eyes meet.

“I sort of can’t believe it’s all over. I don’t want to believe it’s over,” Armie looks at me with intention, “It changed me. I’m not the same guy who breezed in here, barging into your piano lesson last April.”

“That’s what art is supposed to do...it takes place in the head, and the heart,” I speak gently, in sickbed tones, afraid that gripping this moment too tightly will shatter it.

“Yeah, it does. But this went far beyond the art we made here. And so much of that is down to you, Timmy. I owe you so much,” Armie turns from me and looks out over the courtyard. He is struggling to find words, not something I am accustomed to seeing in him. 

I brandish my phone, as the text message noise sounds.

“Who are you texting?” Armie asks.

“DJ Luca G - asking for a new, terrible, heartbreaking, and cheesy hit song of 1983: “We’ve Got Tonight” - Kenny Rogers, a classic!”

Armie listens and still looks like he is about to cry, so I go to him, “C’mon - dance with me?”

We hold each other tightly, I hide my face in his shoulder - tucked against his neck. When the song winds down, I ask him, “Are you tired?”

“No.”

I look over the edge of the balcony, it’s not a far drop to the ground beneath and the downspout is right next to the railing, “Wanna go for a walk?” Without waiting for his response, I throw my leg over the rail and shimmy down the copper downspout.

“Timmy! I’m 6’5” and 220 - I’ll rip that fucking thing right off the building and then Luca will make good on his promise to kill me!” Armie disappears from view.

“Oh come on!” I shout up, scoffing theatrically, “It’s been there for 300 years - it’s suffered through worse than you.”  

Armie debates for a moment, but then he takes the bait and slides to the ground quickly, cradling a full bottle of champagne.

He pops the cork and his smile lights up the whole courtyard, “C’mon - let’s go!” Armie takes my hand and we wander off in the direction of Crema. In the same alleyway that Elio kissed Marzia, Armie pushes me up against the wall, rolling his hips into mine. We kiss until we are breathless, then continue our stroll. We walk past the Duomo, and reminisce under the archway with the broken security camera. There isn’t a single soul on the streets and alleyways. Fog settles over the city, adding a near-supernatural dimension to our wanderings - the sounds of life are veiled, as though they are happening in a different dimension. Tonight there is only us, but sunrise is coming.

We stumble as we finish the last of the champagne. As dawn bleeds across the sky, we find ourselves once again on Via Terrisine, by the gnarled tree that seems as though it is pushing up out of the ancient brick wall. Armie catches his breath, “It looks different in daylight.”

I laugh, “Or maybe it just looks different when you aren’t thinking about fucking me against that wall?”

“Who says I’m not?” Armie’s smile falls away. He crosses to me in three quick steps and fits his hand under my chin, gripping my neck. Armie positions me against the wall - cushioning me in his arms. We kiss and the whole world falls away - nothing exists outside of his lips on mine. The only sounds that remain are the quick intake of breath, the wet and desperate noise of our desire. I hitch my leg around him, and he pulls us closer together.  I want to devour him - so he can stay within me, and I in him, forever. He holds me tighter, kissing me with all his focus and attention as the city awakens around us. The fog burns away under the strong Italian sun. The sound of footsteps in a nearby cross street surprises him, and he pulls back - returning us roughly from that other realm to a regular Saturday morning in Crema. I unwind my arms and legs and we resume our stroll home. 

When we arrive at the apartment, Armie follows me into our bedroom, where we strip off perfunctorily and fall into bed. He is nearly asleep on his feet, between drinking and the joint we shared. Before he drifts off, he spoons up behind me and holds me so close, I cannot breathe. 

###  Armie

God - I forget how little I like champagne until the morning after. I wake alone in Timmy’s bed. The sheets beside me are cold. I am brutally hung-over, which - given my typical enormous capacity for alcohol - is a fairly rare occurrence. I can’t remember the last time I was like this - definitely before coming to Italy. There is probably a lesson in that, although it’s one I am hurting too epically to figure out right now. Timmy - angel of mercy that he is - has left a bottle of water and Motrin on the nightstand and I gulp them down gratefully.

I can smell Timmy’s shower gel in the steam from the bathroom, so in a minute, I pull myself together enough to join him. He isn’t there. I try to make myself feel a bit more human - splashing my face with cold water and brushing my teeth. When I put my toothbrush back, I realize that it is the only one in the holder. I glance around the bathroom and see that all of Timmy’s stuff is missing. My stomach is in knots as I rush out to the lounge in search of my...Timmy.

He is standing by the door. Tim is completely dressed, including his jacket and hoodie. A backpack is slung over one shoulder, the rest of his suitcases are packed and lined up by the door - they must have been there even last night, I didn’t notice them. 

I didn’t see. 

“Timmy, what the hell? I thought your flight wasn’t until Monday?” I am starting to panic.

“It is. Ferdinando promised to take me around Milan. Our car will be here in like...15 minutes,” Timmy is nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t meet my eyes.

“You....you haven’t said goodbye to everybody…Harper - Hops would be heartbroken if...,” I protest.

Timmy smiles softly, “Already done. I said goodbye to Hops and Elizabeth.”

“Well...were you just gonna leave without…” but suddenly I can’t finish my sentence - my chest is too tight and my eyes are burning. 

“Armie - of course not - I was saving you for last - so you could sleep. You seemed like you might need it,” Timmy’s grin falters, “So - this is goodbye,” tears spill over his dark lashes - his eyes glow green with emotion.

I envelop him, kissing the tears from his cheeks - my hands frame his beloved face and I look into his eyes, “Hey! Not ‘goodbye’ - never ‘goodbye’, okay? Later, right? Later?”

Timmy’s face is wild, haunted - he slides his fingers into my hair and pushes me up against the wall. He tugs at me, bending my head back and kisses me almost brutally. I forget how to breathe. 

Then, his phone chimes. Tim pulls back, almost surprised, catches his breath and says, “Later,” without so much as a glance at me. He picks up his suitcase and leaves.

I am alone in our flat, staring at the back of the closed door, like a puppet with its strings cut.

* * *

I stumble into the shower and stand under its spray until the water is entirely cold, remembering. Fragments of our life over the past three months flash in my peripheral vision: laughing as we brush our teeth in boxers at the sink, Timmy’s genuinely awful Luca impersonation, the first time I tied him down, his quest to find the best gelato in Crema, our nights in Milan, movie nights curled together on Luca’s blue velvet couch - I try to recapture every detail faithfully. I fear memory and time - fading our big summer romance into a ghost.

I don’t know how much time passes before I am dressed and I return to my apartment. Elizabeth is in the kitchen, feeding Harper lunch or a snack. I kiss Hops’ head and look at my wife, who studiously avoids meeting my eyes, “Timmy came by this morning.”

“Yeah - so he said - he made the rounds before I was even conscious,” I can’t say his name, can’t say he’s gone now.

“He left something...in your luggage,” Elizabeth looks up with an impossible-to-read expression. Wordlessly, I go to the bedroom and close the door behind me. My leather carry-all is open and I can see the bracelet box on top of the clothes Elizabeth must have started packing. I sit heavily on the bed, my heart in my mouth, and open it. His bracelet is there, missing the Elio/Oliver charm. There is also a folded slip of paper, I recognize Timmy’s inelegant scrawl:

 

> _ Armie - _
> 
> _ I’m keeping the best of our summer romance. In a few months, the rest of the world will have Elio and Oliver, but we lived it - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week - with or without the cameras rolling. So - if I ever say, “I’ve never had a summer love” - you know,...you have to know that it isn’t true... _
> 
>  

I don’t notice I’m crying until tears slide from my chin on to my chest.

 

> ... _ We were given only a few precious, precious weeks - but nothing in my life before can compare. I suspect - even 20, 30, 40 years from today - nothing ever will. You’ve put your imprint on me before the clay was dry - I’ll never love again without something of you fused into it.  _
> 
> _ But - Later is Now, and one shouldn’t count on second chances. _
> 
> _ Goodbye, my Oliver. _
> 
> _ Peace and Love -  _
> 
> _ Always Your Elio _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Person Fiction - with genuine angst.
> 
>  **Spotify Links to the utter velveeta cheese that was 1983 Billboard Pop:**  
> [How Am I Supposed to Live Without You](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Pbz3hrYfXNJsPKdHXhh0r?si=mBKCg2NkTsW6oTuG1Og7Mw)  
> [Come Dancing](https://open.spotify.com/track/32y1kRg6IF3f6jpkHxzFoK?si=POIGSbCGSbGUprTAJEtSGQ)  
> [We've Got Tonight](https://open.spotify.com/track/48uCt4uz5kEruLcWxI9gPI?si=-6gQdgdaR8qGNfGw4Z1SBA)  
>  and - Most Importantly  
> [Never Going to Let You Go](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Yyz56CeZIqLRYEuc26KGt?si=hvEeMIpaRcKnJT0G-icprw)  
> 


End file.
